Infiltration
by gammathetaalpha
Summary: It is determination that fuels Peter Parker's daring undercover mission as an intern for Stark Tower. The Avengers continue to pursue Spider-Man. If Peter can't find a way to gain the upper-hand, it's only a matter of time before his identity is compromised. He befriends two unlikely allies, as it slowly becomes obvious that something bigger is at play. Sequel to Evasion.
1. Chapter 1

**Here it is! I hope everyone enjoys it!**

 **Two things: One, some people might be concerned about how the Avengers are behaving towards Peter. The Avengers are certainly not so cruel, but there's a reason for it, and we can thank the villain from the third story, Manipulation, for all of Peter Parker's Pain.**

 **I love doing alliteration with his name:)**

 **The second thing: I need help thinking of a name for the A.I. If you have any ideas, just mention them in a review, and I might use them in the story. I'll make sure to give full credit to the owner.**

* * *

 _Dear Peter Parker,_

 _We would like to applaud you for your application to the Stark Industries Young Minds internship program. Your blueprints for an impenetrable, secure safe run by an arc reactor were thorough, original, and skilled. Our judges would like to invite you to be one of the nine to compete for a complete college scholarship at a university of your choice, and a secured position as a researcher at Stark Industries._

 _Your school,_ _Midtown High_ _, has been notified of your five week absence, and should deliver you a package of all assignments by Friday, 9.10.12. Please pack an adequate amount of clothes and necessities for your five week stay on the Young Minds floor, at the Avengers Tower. There will be a washing machine and dryer available._

 _Thank you for participating in the Young Minds internship program and research competition. The scientists here involved with Young Minds look forward to meeting you._

 _Best Regards,_

 _Nancy Baron, Young Minds Director, Dr. Samuel Brown, Director of Technological Research and Development, Dr. Kim Young, Director of Biological Research and Development, and Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries._

May Parker leaned the creamy acceptance letter against a celebratory stack of pancakes drowned in butter and organic maple syrup. She went back into the kitchen with a small smile on her face, and returned with a giant bowl of fruit salad. The orange juice was next, then the bacon (all for Peter; her heart couldn't take the fat), and last a tray of muffins.

The first time Peter had brought up the idea of an internship with Stark Industries, she'd been relieved. For the past two years, the boy had done nothing that excited him as much as the idea of rubbing shoulders with some of the world's most brilliant scientists. When he'd asked for her permission to enter the competition, May had said an enthusiastic yes.

That was a month ago. This morning, as May sorted through the thick pile of mail, two letters had caught her eye. One was addressed to Peter, an acceptance letter she couldn't help but open. The second was to her, directions on what to expect, how to pack, and encouragement on how to help Peter continue to grow in his love for science.

May was ecstatic. Ever since he'd asked for permission to join the competition, his… nightly activities… had decreased. No longer did Peter wake up with bruises and cuts he hadn't had the night before. No longer was she as worried, though she still suspected he went out. He just seemed less careless.

She hoped the internship would encourage whatever self-preservation he had gained. May didn't want to put a stop to what he did… she suspected, and would never discourage him from it… but a little more caution would be a relief. A big relief.

There was the familiar sound of feet thumping down the stairs, as the old wood creaked in complaint. A messy head of hair appeared, eyes half shut, back slumped. Peter stood at the bottom of the steps for a moment, before sliding into his chair.

The overwhelmingly amazing smell of bacon hit him right in the nose.

Peter's eyes sprung open. He gaped at the giant spread of food, before staring at his aunt with a look similar to a very confused puppy.

"Oh, close your mouth," May said irritably. "I didn't raise a fish."

The dropped jaw slowly went back where it belonged, but not before Peter spared a few hopelessly confused glances at the table.

"I'm pretty sure it's not my birthday, Aunt May."

May couldn't help it; the stern look disappeared, and was replaced by a Cheshire grin.

"Maybe the letter next to your plate will be of assistance."

It was absolutely terrible, how confused the poor boy was. May made a mental note to spoil him more often.

Slowly, Peter picked up the piece of paper, holding it like it would explode in his hands. His eyes scanned it warily. The look of realisation hit his eyes.

"I'm in?"

And then Aunt May couldn't contain herself any longer. Peter sprung up, a genuine laugh bubbling from his throat. They hugged each other tightly. The feeling warmed May's heart. It was the first genuine laugh she'd heard in a very long time.

"Alright you," she said after a while. She didn't want to spoil the moment, but breakfast was getting cold. "Sit down, and eat."

Peter happily sat down in the chair and began cutting into his pancakes. May followed his example, though her pile consisted of two, instead of Peter's eight.

Inwardly, she shook her head. Where he put all that food, she would never know.

* * *

Peter blankly stared at the collection of wires in his hand.

He knew what he was doing was risky. The Avengers had continued their pursuit for Spider-Man. Multiple times over the last month and a half, he'd be stopping a small crime, when the team would come after him. Spider-Man would hurriedly disappear in the shadows, and be far away before the telling sound of Iron Man's repulsors got any closer.

Multiple things could go wrong during his stay. The security in Avengers Tower was absolute. There were heat sensors and cameras all over the building. There were criminal recognition systems built by Tony Stark himself, meant to alert the cops if any known criminal entered the premises. Peter didn't want to find out as Iron Man came raging down the steps that they had Spider-Man's height and size on profile.

Peter also had no intention of stopping being Spider-Man during the five week period. He wasn't sure exactly how he was going to break out of one of the highest security buildings in New York every night, but he had a pretty good idea.

The idea was starting to look less like an idea and more like a reality.

It was a big sacrifice; spending time he'd usually spend as Spider-Man in front of a computer. But as Peter stared at the wires in his hands, it had started to look like it would be worth it.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he continued his work, experienced hands carefully twisting together wires. He placed them back inside what had been an old flip-phone. A circuit board followed, before Peter snapped the plastic covering back together.

Holding his breath, Peter gently pressed the "call" button on the phone.

"Hello, master. How may I assist you?"

"It works," Peter had breathed, staring at the unsuspecting phone with disbelief.

"I am afraid I do not understand," the phone had said haltingly, like the words were strange on its tongue.

But it would. All Peter had to do was insert a bit of code, and he would have an artificial intelligence at his command.

It would be one of his best creations. He was as proud of it as he was of his web-shooters, and he didn't just say that lightly.

* * *

A few hours later, Peter stared at the modified phone, almost afraid. He'd input the necessary data required for the A.I to function properly (namely the ability to translate words into computer code, and unlimited WiFi access), had messed with the tone of the voice, and had removed the program from his computer that allowed him to reprogram his phone.

The only step left was to test it.

Once again, Peter had pushed the call button. This time, nothing happened. Frustrated and a bit confused, he pressed it again.

"Damm-"

"Language," The phone chided.

Shocked, he stared at the device.

"Don't look at me like that, _sir."_ Peter had got the feeling it was mocking him. With an exasperated sigh at Peter's confused look, it elaborated. "You gave me access to the phone's camera, remember?"

Oh right. The A.I program was meant to identify facial expressions like an actual person.

"Ah…" Was all Peter managed.

"Next time, please be more patient. Do you have any idea how overwhelming it is to have trillions and trillions of terabytes of information thrown at you in half a second? No, I suppose you wouldn't. Be a little more considerate next time."

"Ah… Yes ma'am."

Peter had decided on a feminine voice for the A.I, but it appeared the creation had taken the matter in her own hands, and found its own voice tones. It sounded… bossy.

"Good. Now, get to bed. Don't forget that you start the internship at Avenger's Tower tomorrow. It wouldn't do to be half asleep for that."

Peter stared at the phone incredulously.

"Did you just give me a bedtime?"

"Hmm? Oh, no. I found the average amount of sleep required for a young man of sixteen, which is approximately nine hours, calculated the amount of time we have between now and the start of your school, Midtown High, and came to the conclusion that even if you did go to bed now, you would only have seven hours and nine minutes of sleep, which is one hour and fifty-one minutes short. You will go to bed."

"B-but," Peter spluttered. "You can't just make me…"

"I can and I will. Go to sleep or I'll turn off the WiFi on your computer."

"I'm Spider-Man! I don't need nine hours of sleep!"

This silenced his talkative A.I for a whole two seconds.

"...Okay, what? Your Spider-Man? Do you have any idea how many security risks are involved? There are over fifty major organizations with a price on your pretty masked face. That doesn't include freelancers, criminals with a grudge, and obsessive hobbyists. Don't even get me started on the amount of people out for your identity. Everybody wants it. The government, media, regular citizens of New York, the Avengers."

"Yeah, I know, I know. I don't need a lecture."

"I think you do!" The A.I's voice was getting shriller and louder. "It says here that Mary and Richard Parker are deceased, Ben Parker is deceased, and Gwen Stacey is deceased. Your only living relative is a May Parker, who recently talked to a friend at work about her nephew's "antisocial tendencies. You have no one!"

Irritated at the mention of those he failed, Peter snapped at it. "Keep your voice down! My aunt is sleeping. And where the hell did you find all that information?"

Its voice turned arrogant.

"I'm artificial intelligence. I can find anything. I can also do whatever I want, because I'm an _intelligent being_ , unlike most computers. And I'm going to be your friend."

It sounded so sure of itself, like a five year old on the playground declaring her friendship. That was the odd thing. The A.I had the entire internet at its disposal. Theoretically, it was the smartest being in existence. But age-wise, it was a newborn. It may have knowledge, but it had no experience. That would come with time.

"Ahhh... Okay."

"Friend means a person whom one knows and with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically exclusive of sexual or family relations. I think I fit that title quite well, as we are not biologically family and we are not in a sexual relationship. I know you and my programming gives me a deep mutual affection for you."

Suddenly, the A.I's voice turned business-like.

"And as your friend, I am going to erase all information about Spider-Man from the internet, excluding opinion related views from the media and average citizens. Do I have your permission to continue, Peter?"

Peter's head was still whirling from the A.I's earlier statements. He gave a mute nod in the direction of the camera.

"Good. Now, this process will take several minutes, during which time I will be unable to communicate with you, due to the overwhelming amount of data I will have to find and delete. Make sure you get the proper amount of nutrition and sleep for your genetically enhanced systems."

The A.I went silent, leaving Peter feeling oddly lonely. He stared at the phone lying open on his desk. Slowly, Peter picked his suit off the floor, and got dressed. It was late and Spider-Man had yet to make an appearance. His web-shooters were attached to his wrist, their familiar feel comforting.

Spider-Man stared at the window. He suddenly felt hesitant. Everything had happened so fast. One moment, there had been lines of computer code inserted into dinosaur technology, and the next second, he had a… Friend.

It was alien how much the thing acted like a human. Surprising. Peter hadn't meant to create himself a… Friend, but it had happened. He could scarcely believe it.

He felt inwardly exhausted from the amount of conversation he'd had with the A.I. Spider-Man realized this was the most he'd talked with someone in months. It felt weird, having someone to talk to again.

But Peter didn't feel the same guilt he felt whenever he allowed himself to grow close to people. This was a computer program backed-up on the internet. It was almost impossible to destroy. Peter could technically be a friend with the A.I.

He also needed to stop calling it "the A.I." Peter would have to think up a name.

The A.I was powerful. It seemed to like him. The thought of having an ally was comforting. Without a second thought, Peter silently dove out the window, into the dark night.


	2. Chapter 2

"Bruce, come look at this."

Dr. Banner moved his face away from the microscope and towards Tony's workstation at the seriousness in the genius's voice. Tony stood in front of several holographic screens, eyes flickering from panel to panel. Major news stations, newspaper articles, and government files cluttered the display. One particular headline caught Bruce's eye.

 _Vigilante Files Disappear Overnight: All Information Regarding Spider-Man Is Deleted from Internet._

Bruce sucked in a breath.

"Oh my."

"Yeah. From what JARVIS has gathered, someone removed all information in the span of three hours."

"How is that even possible? Not even you could do that."

Tony glared. "I _haven't_ done it yet. That doesn't mean I can't."

"But who else could do it?"

"Who knows. A friend of Spider-Man, some selfish mercenary that gets the big bucks, or maybe even Spider-Man himself. The hacker couldn't be traced." He dramatically paused. "Yet. JARVIS will have the source of the hack by tomorrow morning."

"And you'll have these forms signed for the board by tonight." Pepper Potts entered the lab with a determined look on her features, a tower of papers, folders, and multiple technological devices stacked upon her arms. Tony huffed at the sight of it.

"Now? We've got Avengers official business to complete." He waved his hand in the direction of the multiple holographic screens. Pepper spared them only half a glance before talking to JARVIS.

"JARVIS, be a dear and turn off all of Tony's screens until he's through with the paperwork."

"Yes, Ms. Potts."

"Hey, I'm trying to do work!" Tony protested.

Pepper shoved a piece of paper into his hands.

"Sit down, and this will take ten minutes tops."

Bruce inwardly chuckled. When he'd first begun to stay with Tony in Avengers Tower, Pepper and Tony's bantering had intimidated him. Now, it was rather amusing to watch. So far, Pepper was the only person that was able to actually get Tony to do what he needed to do. Seeing the confident billionaire put into his place was a show very few people had the privilege to watch.

"Why don't you sign the forms? You know what my signature looks like."

"Because _I_ might, on a whim, decide to draw up a document that gives your money, possessions, and inventions over to me."

"You wouldn't do that," Tony grumbled.

"I would and I will, if you don't sign these documents. Now, the press wants a tour of your house in Miam-"

"Go ahead." Tony waved his hand dismissively. "More publicity for me, right?"

"Okay, writing that down as a yes, but exclusives only. Next, the board wants to buy out a portion of Oscorp, a special wing for genetic scientists, and convert them to our own."

"Yes. They've been runner-up for ages in the biology division of Stark Industries. I wouldn't mind a bit more space between us…"

"Good. Sign here," Pepper said with a satisfied smirk. She liked it when she could accomplish work. "That's settled. Alright, we've got a request for a recommendation for a night-time chaperone for the Young Minds Internship program, which starts Friday. Any ideas?"

"Bruce could do it."

"What?" Dr. Banner took a shocked step back, the Hulk growling viciously at the sudden rush of surprise. "No. I can't."

"Sure you can." Tony had that glint in his eye, one that usually meant trouble for all parties involved.

"Tony…" Pepper chided.

"They want a qualified, relatively popular scientist. Your works in gamma radiation are unparalleled. And you're already holding several workshops with the participants. Why not be nighttime chaperone? You get a comfortable room only half the size of your current one and chats with young, aspiring minds obsessed with science. What could go wrong?"

"No, Tony," Bruce ground out. "What could go wrong? Somebody could startle me, or I might get hurt and… the Other Guy would decide to visit. Me babysitting teenagers with high IQ's? No."

"Woah, woah Green Bean. Calm down there. You're turning colours.

Bruce hadn't even noticed the monster trying to sneak out of the cracks in his mental cage. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he took a deep breath.

"That is a very bad idea. I don't think-"

"Actually, I'm inclined to agree with Tony." Both men looked at Pepper, surprised. Tony whistled.

"Are there pigs flying around outside? Pepper just _agreed_ with me."

She ignored him.

"Getting used to social interaction would be good for you, Bruce. Tony's lawyers cleared up blame against the Hulk months ago. The only thing stopping you from continuing your work as a scientist is your own nervousness."

"I..."

Bruce had to admit, they had a point. After the Chitauri attack , the Hulk had been slightly more cooperative. Tony had also cleared up all the legal messes the Hulk had gotten into. Now, only if the Other Guy made an appearance could any being legally pursue or try to imprison him.

Besides, he enjoyed working with young people, which was why he had signed up for the conference in the first place.

"Ah…" He pinched the bridge of his nose again. "I guess…"

"Great," Tony enthusiastically crowed. "Next."

"That's it." Pepper smiled sweetly. "I expect you to eat tonight."

"Yeah, yeah. Bruce over here has me covered."

Just then, JARVIS spoke up.

"Sir, Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Barton just arrived. They expect you and Dr. Banner down in the conference room in fifteen minutes."

"Good. We can discuss the latest development in the Spider-Man case. Let me go get a martini."

Tony strode out of the room, Pepper following close behind. Bruce slowly sank into a chair, his fingers massaging his temples ferociously.

He wasn't sure what he had just agreed to, but it would probably only be more trouble.

* * *

Bruce and Tony stood silently in the private elevator, AC/DC playing faintly in the background. Tony had a thoughtful look on his face as he sipped his martini, while Bruce just looked stressed. Both made no effort at conversation, though their friendship was firm enough that small talk wasn't necessary.

The elevator dinged politely and both men stepped out, walking in the direction of the conference hall.

As soon as they entered, the silence disappeared. Clint and Steve were quarrelling over something, while Natasha made conversation with a recently returned Thor, whose booming voice overwhelmed the others

"Clint, there is nothing wrong with a prank, but during a mission, your focus should be on your job, not silly string."

"Lighten up, old man! I was having-" Clint's voice was drowned out by an echoing laugh from Thor.

"I see why you remain single, Lady Natasha. It is unfortunate the men of your world have so little wit."

"It's like a party in here," Tony whispered at Bruce. "I should have brought more martinis."

The mental image of five tipsy Avengers somehow managed to make Bruce look even more stressed.

Steve, noticing their entrance, walked to the front of the conference table.

"Alright, everybody sit down. We're not here for casual conversation."

Gradually, everyone made their way to their seats.

"First of all, I need someone to fill in Thor on everything that's happened since he left."

"Yeah, where were you, Point Break? A little thunder-power wouldn't have been amiss." Tony took another sip of his beverage, one eyebrow raising at the Asgardian.

'I apologise for my absence, my friends. There was an outbreak of a dangerous sickness on Asgard, and the All-Father needed my assistance in subduing some of its victims."

"A sickness caused people to start fighting?" The billionaire looked curious.

"Aye. It is a dangerous disease that plays with the minds of its victims, and spreads, causing all members to plot the death and destruction of everything. It appeared that some of the more powerful Asgardian Warriors had spread the disease to other realms, but no virus was found among them."

Thor's face had taken on a serious tone, but didn't stay that way for long. "So tell me, O friends, about your interaction with the Man of Spiders!"

"It didn't go as planned," Steve said tersely. "He was stronger than we expected."

Thor nodded gravely. "Underestimating an enemy's strength is a deadly mistake. I'll admit, I am surprised the mortal evaded capture. He looks deceptively weak."

Steve unconsciously rubbed a bruise on his shoulder.

"His strength matched mine."

"It is unfortunate that the Man of Spiders is not a member of team."

"He would be a valuable asset," Natasha said.

There were murmurs of agreement from all around the table.

"JARVIS, can you start up the video feed from our first fight to help catch up Thor over here?"

"Yes sir."

The feed started up, showing four different POV's, all in various positions around Avengers Tower.

"Skip to the interesting part, JARVIS."

The camera fast-forwarded, bringing them to when Spider-Man had first stepped out of the shadows. The team had watched the feed multiple times over the last month and a half, but they analyzed it with the same amount of intensity, frowns on their faces.

Thor for once, was quiet. His eyes switched from one screen to another, watching as Spider-Man blinded Natasha and Tony, then later as he fought Steve. As the footage came to an end, Thor pursed his lips.

"His heart is that of a warrior's. I do not understand why we pursue him endlessly. Do you not see the desperation in his actions and his voice? He fights like a man with little to lose, but that little is everything to him."

"I agree with you Thor," Captain Rogers spoke up. "But our priority is the safety of humanity. Should Spider-Man's motives ever change, it is concerning that he can beat four Avengers in a fight. SHIELD needs a way to bring him down if they have to."

"But that's then."

All heads swiveled in the direction of Bruce. The man swallowed nervously, but continued.

"Right now, Spider-Man is helping people. It isn't fair that we are imprisoning him for something that _might_ happen."

"It's not fair, Bruce," Natasha said calmly. "But it's protecting people. And we're not imprisoning him. We just want to know who he is. Nobody has any idea where Spider-Man came from, why he does what he does, or how he got his abilities in the first place. Spider-Man seems very intent on keeping his identity a secret, and that's concerning to an intelligence agency like SHIELD."

Inwardly, Bruce knew that. But it didn't make it right. Spider-Man should be treated like a hero, not a criminal.

Tony, eager to be involved in the conversation, spoke up.

"There's also his most recent move. Clint, Natasha? Heard about it in the news?"

"We were in Liberia, Africa for a week," Clint chimed in. "We haven't even showered.

Tony wrinkled his nose.

"That explains a lot, actually. Okay JARVIS, bring up the latest on the vigilante's internet disappearance."

The table began emitting a blue light. A holographic display rose up, information covering the display. Eyebrows rose and foreheads creased at the information.

"Spider-Man must have been attempting to destroy any information we may have had on him," Steve noted.

"Yeah, I mean I would too if I had a bunch of powerful super-beings on my tail. That's not the concerning part. The concerning part is somebody has the power to delete tons of terabytes of information from the internet. Somebody Spider-Man knows. The little bugger has powerful allies."

"It could be Spider-Man himself," Clint pointed out.

"Unlikely," Natasha responded. "He'd have to be as smart as Tony. There's a high chance any adult with that amount of smarts would be on SHIELD's watchlist."

Thor had been watching the participants of the conversation with confusion.

"I do not understand. What is this 'internet' Spider-Man has removed himself from?"

Tony looked exasperated.

"Gramps, you get this one. I have no idea how to explain WiFi to somebody who doesn't understand the concept of a phone."

Captain Rogers sighed, but begun to explain.

"It's basically a way of sharing information, knowledge, and communication in general with other people. The videos and articles in front of us were gathered from the internet. It's confusing, but useful."

"Ah." Thor nodded in understanding.

"Like the library database every Asgardian has access to. I have read many a record off of it."

"That's the idea," Tony said with a grin. "But Spider-Man erased every trace of himself off of it. The internet is so unorganized, that's technically impossible."

"So not only are we dealing with a super-human that can evade four Avengers in a fight," Clint said. "We're also dealing with some kind of super-hacker that can erase entire subjects from the internet."

"In about four hours," Tony added.

Clint grinned.

"This is my kind of mission."

"We have to catch him first," Natasha pointed out. "Every time we try to approach him, Spider-Man slips away."

An idea came to Bruce's mind.

"Tony's suit may have something to do with it. Steve, you said you can hear it from miles away."

Steve rose an eyebrow.

"That makes a lot of sense. Next time he appears, we'll send Clint and Natasha to occupy him, and the rest can follow."

Natasha spoke up.

"One last thing, Tony. Did Spider-Man erase the information we've gathered on him so far?"

"Thankfully, no. I keep important files like that on a private system, separate from all systems connected to the internet. Whoever this hacker was couldn't get information on private hard drives."

"Good. Everybody be on alert for the next Spider-Man sighting. SHIELD wants a mission report, so Clint and I need to go."

The two spies rose from their seat and exited the room.

"I should be heading out as well," Steve said as he pushed the swivel chair under the table. "I'm meeting with a few friends later today."

That left Thor, Bruce and Tony.

"Thor, you gonna stay with us? Bruce and I would love the company."

"I think I shall. Thank you for offering me my own quarters in your tower, Stark's son."

Tony chuckled.

"I'm glad to offer. JARVIS, take Thor to his floor, and send up some chefs. I get the feeling he'll be hungry."

Thor let out a loud laugh.

"You know me well, my friend. I shall go feast."

The billionaire looked towards Bruce.

"Now, don't you have some packing to do?"

Dr. Banner groaned.

"I'd almost succeeded at forgetting."

He followed Thor out. Tony gave one last glance at the screens, before letting out a sigh.

"JARVIS, shut down the conference room and prepare me another martini. I have the feeling I'm going to need it."

* * *

 **Okay, so I had to decide between posting a new chapter now and letting our A.I scene wait, or putting this on hold until Tuesday and then adding something with Peter. Sorry, but the former decision was chosen.**

 **Thank you to the INCREDIBLE amount of reviews, favorites and follows! It made my day/week/month/year/rest of my life:) Please continue with the support, and the next chapter will be up soon!**


	3. Chapter 3

Friday started out perfect enough, with beautiful weather, an early wake-up from the A.I (they had yet to decide on a name), and a full five hours of sleep the night before. Peter had given his Aunt an extra-long hug goodbye, picked up his oversized duffle-bag and backpack, and left the house.

That's when the perfect day had started to go wrong. Caught up in thought, Peter had missed his bus. After running after it, muttering curses under his breath, and not catching up to it, (there were people around. It wouldn't do to compromise his identity), he'd decided that no matter what, Peter couldn't be late for school today.

So he'd slipped into an alleyway and changed into his Spider-Man costume.

Swinging over New York, duffel bag and backpack awkwardly strapped to his back, Peter had heard the telltale screams of a mugging taking place. So with a sigh, he'd dumped the bags on the roof of a building, and had swung in the direction of the mugging.

One thing had lead to another, and forty-nine minutes later, while Peter was in the process of tying up some thieves, his phone had rung. His flip-phone.

Slightly bemused, Peter answered the call.

"Hello?"

His ear exploded in pain at the sudden noise.

"Peter Parker you get your sorry ass over here now! Who do you think you are, ditching school on the day of the internship and-"

"Okay, okay. Keep it down, will you? I'm in the middle of stopping a crime."

He had lazily shot a web at a thief making a futile attempt at escape. The man yelped and struggled but to no avail. Seconds later, he was firmly pinned to the wall with his other buddies.

"Just get to school _now._ " His A.I demanded.

"Fine, Chief. "

"Ooh, that's a good one!" Her voice was suddenly cheerful. Inwardly, Peter sighed. They'd been suggesting names for the past four days, though none had seemed to fit. The A.I seemed intent on making every one of them an acronym.

"It could stand for, Cause He Is Ever Forgetful!" Suddenly her voice was serious again. "And if you forget to get to school in the next twenty minutes, I _will_ somehow get a body, hunt you down, and use a blowtorch to fry your eyebrows off."

"Okay, okay! I get it. The women in my life," he muttered, as he stuffed the phone back in his pocket. Spider-Man walked in the direction of the thieves.

"Now, you guys just stay here. Let me borrow that…"

He took the phone from the villain's pocket and dialled 911.

"Hey Bill! Long time no hear! How's my favourite 911 dispatcher?"

" _I'm keeping busy. It's only been nineteen minutes since you last called."_

"Yeah, it's a flaw. Look, I've got a group of thieves currently pinned to the wall of a jewellery store on tenth. Would you mind sending a few of the fellas with the cuffs to lock 'm up? They're looking right and ready to fess up to their crimes, aren't you boys?"

He gave the thieves a steady glare. They all nodded viciously.

" _Yeah, they're coming your way."_

"Hey, thanks Bill."

" _Yeah, glad to help. Hey… um Spider-Man?"_ The man's tone was hesitant.

"Yes sir?"

" _Look, there's been rumours that the Avengers have been asking around, questioning some of the dispatchers that respond to your calls regularly. You're not in any trouble?"_

Inwardly, Peter sighed. This wasn't the first he'd heard about the Avengers "asking around."

"Let's just say that people are sticking their noses where they don't belong, and people don't like it when _I_ don't like that."

" _Ah…"_

"Thanks for the help, Bill! I'll talk to you tomorrow."

" _See ya, Spider-Man."_

Peter threw the phone in the general direction of the thieves. It fell on the cement with a crack. One of the thieves yelled out protest.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry buddy. No texting where you're going."

The flip-phone in his pocket rang again. Wincing, Peter jumped up into the air. He didn't want another verbal beating from his computer program.

Even though her constant reminders and concern could get irritating, he found it oddly comforting at times. Ever since… Gwen… there had been an overwhelming sense of loneliness and darkness swallowing his every thought. The A.I had helped it go away.

It wasn't just the A.I. It was also the Avengers. In their own twisted, backwards way, they'd given him a sense of purpose, a mission. Their threats had brought him back into the world of the living, out of the pit he'd fallen in. Now, Peter had purpose. His overactive mind wouldn't stay still. Without a project, it was energy, bouncing back and forth at a light speed pace, uncontrollable, uncontainable.

But now he had a goal. Peter would stop the Avengers, keep them out of his life, and away from the people close to him.

In the distance, Avengers Tower loomed over the city. Peter gave it a glance. In a few short hours, he would be excused from school, and sent to work in one of the most prestigious places there were to work. Not only was it run completely on clean energy, technologically advanced in every sense, and filled with famous researchers, engineers, and scientists, but it was also home to the Avengers. The top fifteen floors were the private floors.

There was a chance that just getting into the tower would be enough. Peter had explained to the A.I (competing with her shouts of, "are you crazy?") on what she needed to do. There was a chance she could use the security system in the tower to find Tony Stark's systems. If not, Peter would have to navigate all fifteen floors in search for the hard drives.

Hopefully, he would have an opportunity to do so. Other than that, his goal was to lay low and not catch anyone's eye.

Spider-Man realised that he'd neared Midtown High. After a brief glance around for cameras, he dove into an alleyway.

Forty-five seconds later, Peter Parker strode out onto the sidewalk, and in the direction of his school.

* * *

"Well look who decided to arrive for class."

Peter stumbled through the doorway of the classroom, backpack overflowing with books and homework, pile of binders and papers stuffed under one arm, and skateboard hanging from his other hand. He slid into his seat, shoving the mess under the desk, and looked up apologetically at the teacher's unamused smile.

"Sorry, I um… missed my bus and-"

"We don't need to hear it, Mr. Parker." Ms. Roybal spent no more time staring down at the student. She moved to her desk and shuffled through a pile of papers.

"It seems Mr. Parker has decided to take his five week internship at Avengers Tower very seriously. Mr. Stark may be an excellent role model as far as science is concerned, but his habit of being late shouldn't be copied."

At the news, twenty-eight heads swung round to stare at him. The class broke out into excited murmurs. Peter sunk into his chair, wishing the ground would swallow him whole.

"Now, return your attention to the instructor if you will." Ms. Roybal began the lesson and the majority of the stares returned to the front of the room.

But Peter didn't need his Spidey sense to feel one last stare fixed on the back of his head. He sunk lower into his chair.

Flash sat directly behind him, and used his position to his every advantage. There had been in the past countless amounts of spitballs, airplanes, well-aimed pencils, and rubber-bands. He also seemed to find delight in torturing Peter about his intelligence.

None of this had been a problem, until Gwen Stacy had taken an interest in him.

With a sigh, Peter's head thumped onto the desk. He was too nervous to do anything other than think about all the trouble he was in for the next five weeks.

* * *

"Dr. Banner, may I introduce this year's interns for the Young Minds program?"

Bruce gave what he hoped was not a nervous smile. He shook hands with each of the students, doing his best to commit their faces to memory.

"This is Curtis Languish, Hannah Reymers, Mason King, Christopher Burke, Hattie White, Jessica Lucado, Peter Parker, Ryley Anders, and Jung Chang."

Each of their faces were a mixture of awe and disbelief. Dr. Bruce Banner was the modern day Marie Curie, a renowned name when it came to the effects of Radiation, particularly Gamma Radiation, though he had done plenty of research on alpha and beta decay as well.

Bruce didn't notice the looks of awe. He was too busy telling the Hulk inside of him that the children were friends, not foes.

"Dr. Banner will also be your late-night chaperone up on the Young Minds floor."

The reactions varied, from excited chatter, to that of a person sure they're going to wake up at any moment, and find themselves back in their dull, boring lives with no Stark Tower and no famous scientists.

Nancy Baron, the director of the organisation, gave the students a kind smile.

"How about I bring you up to your floor?"

"Dr. Baron," a student asked. Bruce recognised her as Hattie, already proving herself the more talkative, outgoing type. It was relatively unusual in the science world. "Will we get to meet Tony Stark?"

Dr. Baron's smile wavered just a fraction of a bit. Bruce knew what had happened. It was a regular occurrence, though not as much as it had been. When Dr. Baron had asked Tony to do one presentation at the end of the five weeks, he had refused, saying the "crowd was too small to boost my ego." The woman had pleaded, convinced the students would not be "compelled to their full potential". After a few more no's, the woman had taken a disliking for Tony Stark.

 _Unfortunate, considering she works for his company_ , Bruce mused.

"I'm afraid not. Tony Stark is a very busy man. Now, if you'll come with me."

The disappointed looks quickly faded as they walked deeper and deeper into the first floor of Avenger's Tower. The place was amazing, filled with busy receptionists, impatient business-men and women, and scientists who payed the rest of the world no mind. The kids gasped as they went past a robot somewhat similar to Star Wars R2D2. An engineer was having a heated conversation with it, and it beeped and buzzed back at him.

Further in the room… Bruce wasn't sure what else to call it, though the size of it beat any _room_ , they came across a fountain. In the water, little mechanical fish darted back and forth, their metal glinting in the light. Five or six of the kids stopped entirely, and rushed over to the electronic display. On top of the board, it read "clean energy project: "The Fish Wheel"". Suddenly, there was an electronic chime, and a glass-like dome encased the fountain. By this time, the entire group had surrounded the fountain. Dr. Baron was doing her best not to smile at their fascination.

There was a crackling sound, and the pond lit up with electricity. All of the students jumped back. Then slowly, the dome receded, and the fountain continued as before.

"Come along," Dr. Baron called.

Slowly, with eyes still pinned on the fountain, they continued.

As they continued to make their way through the busy lobby area, jostling people, dodging scientists, Bruce started to feel more awful. The amount of noise and bodies was suffocating. He felt his heart constrict in his chest, and his heartbeat speed up.

Suddenly this whole thing seemed like a very bad idea. If somebody shoved him over, or accidentally hurt him, he wasn't sure if he could continue to control the Other Guy. Already, the green guy was sending images of tiny people being tossed about like flies, and the giant walls of the tower crumbling down with powerful punches from the Hulk.

Maybe it would be better to just get out of this; feign sick and go back to the silent, cavernous labs up on the top floors. It wasn't safe for the people, for the students, for all of New York.

Bruce realized he had come to a total stop. The group was some distance away. Hurriedly, he caught up, doing his best to ignore the panicked roars from the Hulk and the uneasy feeling in his stomach.

Nobody had noticed his brief stop. They were all too busy staring at the elevators.

Dr. Baron led them closer to the towering glass tunnels engraved with delicate designs of circuitry patterns. Every time one of the elevators went up or down, they would light up the patterns, making the light dance and spin through the intricate maze etched on the glass. The tubes disappeared into the roof high above their heads.

One of the elevators lit up, and a capsule sped down, coming to a stop only a little ways from them.

The doors opened, and Steve stepped out, in Captain America uniform.

Gasps came from the members of the group. The majority of the group rushed forward, immediately surrounding the poor guy.

Steve had an urgent look on his face, and was grasping his shield tightly, as he did whenever he was stressed. He gave the group a glance, identified them as fans, and forced a polite smile on his face.

"Captain America! It's an honour to meet you!"

"I'm your biggest fan!"

"What's it like working with Tony Stark?"

Bruce stared up at Steve, hoping to catch his attention. Their gazes met.

 _Help me,_ Bruce mouthed silently. Steve gave him a pitying glance.

"Good afternoon," Steve said. Two of the girls giggled. "I hope you're enjoying your stay at Avenger's Tower so far."

"Can we have your autograph?" One of the boys blurted out. Bruce identified him as Curtis. This was followed with statements of agreement from four or five other students.

"Why would you want my autograph? Each of you, if you work hard and stand up for what's right, could be heroes."

Steve had this way of speaking, that made you want to do whatever he said. There was something so honest, so passionate about his tone, that it put you under a spell.

"Now, I'm afraid I have to go. Maybe I'll see you again sometime this month?"

There were more enthusiastic yeses, and Captain America left, giving Bruce another pitying glance, along with a silently mouthed _sorry_.

"Wasn't that exciting?" Dr. Baron said with a patronising smile. "Maybe we'll get to see him again. After all, you're living in Avengers Tower for the next five weeks. Let's continue on."

She led the group to an elevator. A small, enclosed space.

The Hulk didn't like tight spaces. Then again, that was just another thing to add to a list of things the Other Guy hadn't liked so far.

* * *

 **Okay, my plan is to have another chapter out this weekend. I wasn't entirely happy with this chapter, to be honest, but it turned out better than I thought. Sorry for the wait.**

 **As for the A.I, she will receive her new name next chapter! Thank you I-am-a-Ice-cream-lover for suggesting the name CHIEF! She had another name suggested as well, but I wasn't sure how to squish that in. I'm thinking of doing a one-shot featuring conversations between our A.I and Peter, trying to decide on a name. What do you think?**

 **Thank you for your patience, as well as the crazy amount of reviews, favourites, follows, and views. I hit fourteen thousand views on both Evasion and Infiltration this week. Keep it up, and (if you celebrate it) happy Halloween!**


	4. Chapter 4

"You want to do _what?"_

Peter glanced around furtively at his A.I's sudden rise in volume, looking for any curious students that might have overheard. But Midtown's cafeteria was just as noisy as any other, and nobody had heard his A.I's outraged voice.

"Look." Peter instinctively brought his voice lower, leaning closer to the flip-phone on the table. This is why I created you. I know it's dangerous, but it's the only way to protect Aunt May _and_ myself. You can calculate the risks, but the outcome would be much more fruitful than anything else I do!"

"No. It's idiotic. It's a deranged, mindless, stupid, foolish, risky plan, and exactly what I would expect from an undeveloped adolescent's mind. Not only that, but you want me to _hack J.A.R.V.I.S._ He is the most intricate known A.I on Earth with control over _everything_.That's like asking you to fight Thor!"

Peter had a feeling that if his A.I had a face, it would have been fuming. He'd just told her about why he really had signed up for the internship at Avenger's Tower, and she was furious. Beyond furious.

"You programmed me to protect you!"

"Which is what you're doing," Peter assured. "If Tony Stark has a virus in his system that automatically erases any evidence about me, then they can't find out my identity through any means other than physical force. And I've already proved that I can evade them."

"You _0000001111101000111111001!_ "

Peter decided to not point out the fact that she'd spit out all of her curses in binary code. He had a feeling it would only make her angrier.

"Look, I get that you're upset. Yeah, I've been careful to scrub up any of my blood or possible DNA, and I've kept away from the cameras, but I'm bound to make a mistake. If the Avengers get ahold of it, I'm screwed. They'll be able to put my blood through their systems, relate it to the Oscorp spiders, and figure it out from there."

"And me creating a virus for their private servers will prevent that."

"Yeah."

There was silence for a few seconds. When Peter's A.I spoke, her voice was weary.

"You're an idiot, you know that?"

"And you're a control freak."

"Juvenile delinquent."

Peter grinned. "Mother of sass."

"That's a compliment, sweetie-pie."

He wrinkled his nose. "Don't do that. You sound like a cowgirl."

His A.I's voice brightened. "Hey! What about Sophisticated Universal Software Assigned Neoteric Network Assistant, or SUSANNA for short? That's cow-girly and a perfect name for the Mother of Sass!"

His nose managed to wrinkle further. "Why is that sassy?"

Peter's A.I audibly shrugged. "I don't know. It just is."

"Okay."

The bell rung, signifying the end of the lunch period. Peter slung his backpack over his shoulder, whispered a "bye" to his A.I, and stuffed the phone in his pocket. He glanced at the clock on the wall.

It was time. Peter would head to the office, pick up his duffel, and leave for Avengers Tower in five minutes.

Any cheerful thoughts slowly disappeared as the reality of where he was going set in.

* * *

Avenger's Tower was magnificent. It was marvelous. It was every scientist's heaven-on-earth, a technological dream. People carted around giant, scientific equipment, and carried on conversations using words like, "hydrocarbon compounds" and "centripetal force." There was an overabundance of busy people in white lab coats, muttering under their breaths, every ounce of attention focused on their Stark Tablets, or holographic composition books, featuring complex mathematical equations and scientific formulas. There were displays showing off some of Stark Industries latest and greatest achievements. And that was just the lobby.

But it was all lost to Peter. Sure, some subconscious part of him noted the giant mass of exposed gears working with an arc reactor in its center to run the twenty-four clock faces, each ticking in harmony. Or the small chunk of palladium II suspended in a dazzling octogonal container of glass. Tony Stark loved to impress, and it showed in the way he decorated his lobby.

That was only the subconscious part of Peter. The rest of his thoughts were overwhelmed. Everywhere he turned, every place he looked, he saw danger. His spider-sense gave little tingles as multitudes of people brushed past him, bumped into him. Every sound was a danger to Peter's on-edge mind.

It was because he was paranoid. If Peter could somehow quell the nervousness bubbling inside of him, the chaos inside Avenger's Tower wouldn't be so unmanageable. But any attempts at cooling his nerves had only led to memories. Memories of pain.

 _The thwack of a solid punch hitting human skin, and then the burst of pain as nerves registered the blow. But there was no time to come to terms with the sudden pain in his ribs. There was a mad tingling from his Spider-Sense as Peter was forced to dodge a lethal kick aimed for his head. It was a mad dance, one Spider-Man did fairly well at. But fairly well was not enough to stop some of the blows from meeting their target._

 _The sudden volley of arrows thwip-thwip-thwipping all around him as he danced around them. One embedded itself into his flesh, charring the colour. He'd winced. That would scar._

 _The desperate fight for breath as red spots danced in front of his eyes. Peter clawed at the legs wrapped around his neck, slowly squeezing the life out of him._

" _S-stop," He choked out. He stumbled, partially falling to his knees. Cold fingers found the small split between his mask and costume, and slowly began inching the fabric up his chin. Spider-Man let out a silent scream of frustration, and with a renewed vigor that burned hot and red in his chest, sprung into the air, every muscle in pain with the effort._

 _There was a smack as the Black Widow slammed into the brick wall. Peter found it very hard to care._

 _The sudden explosion of missiles, melding his suit and skin into one, a heat so intense it was ice. This time, he did scream. But his throat was so raw, it only came out as gurgling. He'd stared at Tony Stark through the smoke and the tears, too overwhelmed by the pain to do more than fall to the ground, and silently beg him to stop._

 _And then the last arrow, like icing on a cake. He could do nothing to stop its path, and it plunged itself into his leg._

 _It hurt. It hurt worse than any pain he had endured before. And the only thing Spider-Man could think as he collapsed on a cold rooftop a distance away from the fight scene, was that the only reason it hurt so much was because he had been treated like a bad guy. And even though people hated Peter for what he did, he couldn't stop. It was his responsibility._

These thoughts had tumbled their way through Peter's head at every reminder of the Avengers. Now, they were a gushing torrent of painful memories. Everywhere Peter looked, he saw reminders of the Avengers: clothes featuring Captain America's shield, TV reports on another one of the large charity events funded by the superheroes, and Tony Stark's trademark smirk on every informational screen and wall.

It was instinctual. Peter Parker wasn't a coward. If somebody pushed him down, he got up again. But if a spider was injured, it didn't want to fight back. The spider inside of him was screaming at Peter to run, in a way every animal does when it's been injured. Defeated.

He couldn't run. Not only did Peter have a responsibility to protect New York, but he had a responsibility to protect Aunt May.

With a frustrated huff of breath pushed out between nervously clenched teeth, Peter tried to focus his attention on some of the magnificent exhibits, instead of potential dangers.

Dr. Baron stopped in front of the gleaming glass elevators. They were a decent distraction, if only for a little while. Tony Stark really went all out.

Suddenly his Spidey-sense tingled madly. He immediately tensed and glanced around. One of the elevators dinged and Peter's eyes were drawn to the opening doors. His heart stopped. Captain America stepped out.

Peter's first thought was that of escape. He'd taken three steps back, before sense took over, and he stopped, ducking behind the rest of the group instead.

Captain America's face was tense, and he looked stressed. He scanned the group with the calculated gaze of a soldier, resting on Peter's for what felt like a second too long, before apparently deeming them not a threat. Peter's Spidey-sense quieted slightly. He inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

The interns were stunned, half of them asking excited questions, the other half staring at Captain America in awe. Peter did his best to do the latter, but it was a halfhearted attempt. The man didn't deserve to be treated like a hero.

With a start, Peter immediately regretted the thought. Yeah, he was angry at the guy, and had fair reason to be, but Captain America had crashed a ship of bombs into ice, saving his country, but condemning himself to a fate worse than death in the process.

Peter didn't like him, but it was his responsibility to show respect to the Avengers.

"I'm your biggest fan!"

"What is it like working with Tony Stark?"

The man gave the crowd another glance, his gaze once again seeming to linger on Peter. Peter's heart rate increased drastically.

"Good afternoon," The man said politely. Two girls, Hattie and Jessica, giggled. "I hope you're enjoying your stay at Avengers Tower so far."

"Can I have your autograph?" Curtis blurted out suddenly, looking sheepish the moment the words left his mouth. He was tallish, with very light blond hair, blue eyes, and a thin figure.

"Why would you want my autograph? Each of you, if you work hard and stand up for what's right, could be heroes." Captain America's piercing gaze directed itself at each student. Peter felt his Spidey-sense once again tingle madly as it fell on him. His brow wrinkled slightly, as if he had seen Peter before, and was trying to place where.

Peter prepared to bolt. Captain America may not have seen his face, but a person did not have to see someone's face to recognise them. Height and figure were enough.

Then there was a quiet, tinny voice incredibly faint, smothered by the general noise of hundreds of people coming and going. Peter realised it had come from some type of earpiece, like the ones they wore when he first fought the Avengers.

"Captain Rogers, sir. Coulson cannot wait any longer for backup."

The voice tore Captain America's curious gaze away from Peter. The tingling of his Spidey-sense all but stopped.

"Now, I'm afraid I have to go. Maybe I'll see you again sometime this month?"

Five different people responded with enthusiastic yeses. Then Captain America left. Peter didn't breathe until the man had entirely disappeared into the crowd.

"Wasn't that exciting," Dr. Baron said with a smile.

Exciting. Yeah. That was the word for it.

* * *

 **Thank you Melancholy's Sunshine for suggesting the name SUSANNA!**

 **Okay, so here's the thing. Forever the Optimist, an amazing fanfiction author, is a major inspiration for me. She writes primarily Doctor Who fanfiction, and has this beautiful Fanfiction for Dummies guide on her profile. But lately, she's had very little notice on her stories. In order to boost her follows, I've decided that if in forty-eight hours from now,** **Forever the Optimist** **has** **sixty follows** **on** **her latest story,** **She's Back** **, I will** _ **post a new chapter at that time.**_ **So even if Doctor Who isn't your cup of tea, do me a favour and go support the person who is one of the main reasons I'm writing fanfiction.**

 **Ahhh… also, I'm going to go back and do a few edits on some previous stories. Not sure when, but don't get your hopes up if ffn thinks I've posted a new chapter.**

 **Till next chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5

**IMPORTANT NOTE: Okay, so I have been getting tons of guest reviews, and I really want to reply to them. So here's the thing. If you are a guest, and you review, I will reply to your review on my profile, starting this chapter. Thank you to all guests who have reviewed!**

 **IMPORTANT NOTE TWO: The A.I's name is officially SUSANNA. This plays a lot into who she is as a character, and will really begin to mean something in later chapters. Sorry for the confusion, I'll try to fix it up later:)**

* * *

"Hack JARVIS," SUSANNA muttered. "He wants me to hack JARVIS."

SUSANNA stared at the solid, impenetrable walls surrounding the Avenger's tower security system. They were huge. No, that word entirely undermined the size of the security program. They were not huge. They were flippin _huge._

It was impossible. Entirely impossible. There was no way SUSANNA could hack the world's most advanced A.I. The statistical chance of her logical programming function having the capability to outsmart thousands of premade protocols were about as slim as Captain America deciding to move to Hawaii and spending the rest of his days drinking Jamba Juice and doing the hula.

It could happen, but it most likely would not.

Inwardly, SUSANNA was cursing Peter's lack of self-care. He really had no idea how much danger he put himself. Or, he did know, and didn't care. This entire plan was stupid. It only took one wrong word, one little slip-up, and they would fail.

But SUSANNA had her orders. And like any computer, she would do what she was programmed to do. So with an exasperated sigh and a few creative insults directed at her creator, she began her impossible task.

* * *

 _Time: 13:05.26_

JARVIS was alerted of one security breach. Protocols and applications were activated and the offending intruder was disbanded.

 _Time: 13:06.26_

JARVIS was alerted one security breach. Protocols and applications were activated and the offending intruder was disbanded.

 _Time: 13:07.26_

JARVIS was alerted of one security breach. Protocols and applications were activated and the offending intruder was disbanded.

 _Time: 13:08.26_

JARVIS was alerted of one security breach. Protocols and applications were activated. **Alert:** Offending Intruder was not disbanded. **Error:** Offending Intruder's IP Address not found.

 **Alert:** Data has been tampered with. 29 Applications and protocols altered. Data has been deleted by an unknown user. Administrator not alerted.

 **Warning** : Access has been permitted for a user not Administrator: Tony Stark or User: Pepper Potts. Level Permitted: 100/100

 **Warning** : AVENGER'S TOWER security control panel accessed by user not Administrator: Tony Stark.

 **Warning** : CCTV cameras accessed by user not Administrator: Tony Stark.

 **Warning** : Spider-Man files accessed by user not Administrator: Tony Stark. Spider-Man files deleted.

 **Warning** : Iron Man blueprints accessed by user not Administrator: Tony Stark.

 **Alert:** Tony Stark is no longer Administrator. User: Sassy_Cowgirl now Administrator.

* * *

Peter's hands were shaking violently as the group loaded onto the elevator. That had been close. A little close for comfort. All around him, the other interns were talking excitedly about Captain America.

"Dude, he was epic! This entire thing is epic! Did you notice the uniform? I bet he was going out to kick some villain's ass!"

 _Or talk to more innocent dispatchers in search of information about Spider-Man,_ Peter thought sourly.

"Mr. Burke, I ask that you refrain from using crude language here at Stark Industries. This is a professional workplace and as an intern here you should do your best to keep it that way." Ms. Baron levelled an irritated glare in Christopher's direction. He responded with an uncaring "yes ma'am', and then eagerly went back to his conversation.

"But seriously, Captain America is the best!"

This started up multiple protests, and the volume of noise in the elevator went up.

"No way, Iron Man is!"

"Hawkeye, actually."

"Thor wins, as far as I'm concerned. He's practically a god."

Peter did his best not to roll his eyes. Their conversations were surprisingly childish for juniors and seniors attending an internship at the most renowned science and technology lab in the world.

 _And we all know who really is the best hero,_ Peter impishly thought.

"Okay, okay, stop it." Everyone silenced and looked at the teen who had spoken. His name was Mason, if Peter remembered correctly.

"Now, shut up and think about this logically. If we're comparing strength and ability to destroy an enemy, then who is the one best able to destroy?"

They all quickly caught onto his train of thought.

"Oh please," Hattie said with an eye roll. "Nobody has even seen him since the Battle of New York. He doesn't do the small league stuff."

"All the more reason the Hulk is better. The small stuff he leaves for the little guys."

If Peter had looked behind him, he would've seen Dr Banner, looking a little bit green.

"Actually, the best super-hero is the Daredevil." A nerdy-looking guy who hadn't spoken yet finally put in his two cents. Peter liked Daredevil: he had helped Peter with some thugs over in Hell's Kitchen a while back. The two hadn't exchanged words or anything. Daredevil had disappeared the second the thugs were on the ground, unconscious.

The nerdy guy's two cents bought him many weird and confused looks. The guy was ignored, and the students went back to discussing super-heroes. Peter started to zone the conversation out, focusing more on the impressive settings of the Young Minds floor.

The group had exited the elevator into a large, fishbowl shaped room, covered in modern couches and coffee tables, with a large, glass snack bar at one end. The glass elevator went right through the middle of the room. On the opposite side of the snack bar was a large, entirely glass window, with several slim bar stools and tables resting up against it.

To Peter's left and right, there were two unassuming double doors, the left side's marked 'labs', and the right side's marked 'rooms'. On the hard marble floor, Young Minds was inscribed in large gold lettering, circuitry designs surrounding it.

It was amazing. The room was probably the most luxurious room Peter had ever been in. Gwen would've loved it.

Peter's already dark mood got darker.

"-no one mentioned Spider-Man yet?"

His name brought Peter's attention back to the conversation. The boy who had spoken his name was the same boy that had mentioned Daredevil. This time, nerdy-guy's voice was more confident, more demanding of attention.

Hattie scoffed. "He's not a superhero. He's a vigilante. They don't count."

"That doesn't fit any logic you've applied so far." Nerdy boy stood up straighter, and stepped close to Hattie. He was two unfortunate inches shorter than her, but he certainly tried.

"Technically, it does." Jessica joined the conversation. "All super-heroes we've compared so far work inside the law. Spider-Man and Daredevil do not."

"But Spider-Man's arrest warrant was excused," nerdy-boy defended.

Jessica gave him a pitying glance.

"You a fan?"

"... Yes. But for very good reason. Spider-Man has saved a lot of people."

"Look," Jessica said. "I'm not supposed to tell anyone this, so please don't share because I could get in big trouble. But my dad's a cop. He told my mom over dinner that a government branch called SHIELD put the arrest warrant back in place. Apparently, he's in big trouble with them for something he did."

Peter's head snapped up. He stared at Jessica with wide eyes. It couldn't be true. Why would it be true? There was no way.

He remembered a conversation between the Avengers back when he had first met them. One of them had mentioned an organisation called SHIELD. It seemed that the government had more control over the superheroes than the public realised.

Jessica's claim had led to multiple responses, disbelief being the biggest. Poor nerd-guy looked lost, disbelieving.

"I can't believe their stupidity," a girl next to Peter muttered. He looked over in surprise, both at the venom in her tone and the familiarity of her voice.

"Did he help you?" Peter asked, desperately trying to place her.

Hannah glanced over him with a suspicious eye. Her tone lowered. If Peter had been a normal person, he barely would've been able to hear her.

"He saved me from a raping a month ago, or so."

Then Peter remembered. She was the girl in the alleyway, the one he'd saved right before his confrontation with the Avengers.

"Oh."

She levelled him a stern stare.

"Don't go around sharing that, ya hear? That's not information I need wandering around."

Peter mutely nodded.

"Good."

"Alright!" Ms. Baron clapped her hands twice, that patronising, false smile on her face. "Dr Banner will be right back; he just needs to check on something. Meanwhile, why don't you go find your rooms? Your luggage will be on your beds."

The conversation about superheroes ceased. It was replaced by excited chatters about what was to come.

They made their way down the long hallway, interns stopping and entering doors as they saw their name.

His room was the last, at the very end of the long hall. It was right next to Dr Banner's.

 _Because sneaking out of the highest security building isn't hard enough. The last thing I need is a nosy chaperone walking in on Spider-Man half in the window, half out._

Inwardly groaning, he entered the room, giving Ms. Baron a polite smile as he did so. The door shut and he turned around. His jaw dropped.

This wasn't a room. It was an apartment. A huge apartment that even richer people had trouble finding in New York.

He had entered into a living room, with a large leather couch and a flat-screen TV almost the size of the wall. There was a shelf of books on science: a few school and university textbooks, and plenty of papers by renowned scientists. Through a doorway on one side, Peter could see a pristine kitchen and- was that a fridge?

He approached the humongous fridge in awe, barely daring to open its sleek metal doors. Inside the fridge, he found shelves stuffed full of every food imaginable, from yogurt to coconut shavings. Were he a normal teenager, it would last him a week. For Spider-Man, it would last two days.

His stomach growled hungrily. Before Peter even knew what he was doing, he had a sub sandwich in his hands.

If Peter actually ate the amount of food he needed for his body, he would eat him and his aunt out of their house. It was one of the drawbacks of Spider-Man powers. He spent his entire life hungry.

But hey, it was Iron Man's money. He'd eat all he wanted. Mentally shrugging, Peter unwrapped it, began to eat, and went to explore the rest of the apartment.

On the other side of the living room, there were two doors, presumably a bedroom and a bathroom. Peter started with the one closest to the entryway, and stepped it.

The bedroom was amazing. A queen-sized bed and another floor to ceiling window. Peter strolled over to it and grinned. He could open it, though the lock was electrical and probably required Stark's A.I's permission.

His luggage was indeed on his bed, duffel and backpack side by side. He immediately went to the backpack, letting his fingers feel the roughly-hewn seams quickly sewed into his bag. He had hidden the Spider-Man costume underneath a fake bottom. The seams had been infused with biocable, meaning it was impossible for anyone with normal strength to tear them apart.

With a relieved breath, Peter landed on his bed. He had adrenaline flowing through his veins, and every little noise, smell, disturbance in the air left him on edge. There was the soft roar of the arc reactor pumping clean energy through the building, the rustle of clothes being placed into drawers in an apartment a few doors down. There was the gurgle of a coffee machine pouring that life-saving black liquid into a glass pot.

If Peter listened very, very carefully, he could even hear sounds on the Avengers floors. He could hear footsteps, and a loud, argued conversation between two people, their voices impossible to discern. There was a booming laugh in a slightly different part of the building. Peter shivered. He'd heard that laugh on TV before, for one of the Avenger's many fundraisers. It was Thor. Hopefully he wouldn't have to face the Asgardian in battle.

When Peter had that familiar feeling of adrenalin flowing through his veins, but no physical way to direct it, that energy went to his mind. His thoughts would move at lightning speed, easily analyzing any problem at hand.

He knew that if he let himself think, that any thoughts would eventually lead to two topics: the Avengers and Gwen.

Peter would sink into depression. Normally, he was okay with that. He deserved it, after all. He'd failed Gwen. He'd failed Uncle Ben. He'd failed Dr. Connors.

There were other people too. Peter didn't always succeed in saving people as Spider-Man. There was a little girl, and Spider-Man hadn't noticed her until she was running through the street, heavy New York traffic coming straight at her. He'd shot a web and missed. The sickening smack of metal hitting flesh and bones would haunt him forever after.

How about the business-man? He was a husband, a father, faithfully off to his dull office job in order to make money for his wife and four children. The tingling of Peter's spidey-sense had come too late. He'd heard the gunshot, the sudden ceasing of a heartbeat, that awful stench of fresh blood, and the horrified cries of passerbyes that were just there at the right time.

Then there was the building. An entire apartment complex of sleeping people and it had crumbled to the ground, the people still inside.

"Hey you."

Peter looked over at the end of the bed, Gwen giving him that alive smile.

That was the other thing his adrenaline-fueled mind did. It hallucinated. They were vivid down to the last detail. He could hear Gwen's heartbeat, smell her shampoo and fabric softener, feel the disturbance of her breath. She seemed so… real.

But if he reached out to touch her, Peter's fingers would go through the soft fabric of her sweater. The illusion would disappear.

With a tired sigh, he reached out to wave it away.

"Yo micho," His A.I's voice sing-songed. It didn't come from the phone.

Peter jumped, sticking to the roof with a thud.

"What the h-"

"Language," She chided. "I took over JARVIS and have control over the entire system, like you told me to. Stop acting so surprised. JARVIS didn't stand a chance."

Slowly, Peter lowered himself back to the ground.

"But how-"

"There are speakers and cameras in every room, excluding the bathrooms. Now tell me what's wrong."

Peter was instantly on guard. The last thing he needed was an overprotective computer program worrying about his mental health. He had enough on his plate. He forced a genuinely confused look on his face.

"Unless you count the fact that I'm only floors below the people convinced I need to share my identity with them in order to protect the entire planet, there's nothing wrong."

"Mhm."

How could a computer be so knowledgeable of human emotions? She literally had existed for five days, and here she was playing shrink.

Peter felt like his Aunt May was scolding him. He shrunk into himself.

"Yeah, your right. I'm sad because… I haven't been able to be Spider-Man since this morning! And that really… is a downer on my mood."

His lying skills certainly hadn't improved.

"Oh." His A.I's voice was slow, stretching out the word. "So you really miss being Spider-Man. It's been a whole… five hours since you were last out risking your head."

Peter scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

"...Yeah."

"Okay." There were an extra five syllables added to the word. "Well don't let me keep you then. Feel free to jump out that window any time you wan-"

"Peter Parker?" The hesitant voice of Dr Banner rang out through the apartment, coming from behind the front door.

For the second time in ten minutes, Peter stuck to the roof. This time however, he had the sense to not stay there.

"Ah… yes? Um… I mean… come in."

Peter left his bedroom to greet the renowned scientist.

Dr. Banner was a nervous man. He tended to not look people in the eye, and often rubbed his arm with his hand. His voice was quiet, and had Peter been anyone else, he would've struggled to hear it. But Peter heard everything.

He inwardly scolded himself for not hearing Dr Banner coming. Peter and SUSANNA were both talking loudly. Dr Banner could have easily heard the conversation.

"Ahhh… I just came by to introduce myself." Dr Banner rubbed his arm and averted his gaze, offering Peter a tense smile.

"I-it's very nice to meet you. Your work is… astonishing. The amount you've found on gamma radiation, and how it can be applied to medical technology has saved hundreds of lives."

Peter really did admire the scientist. His name was a relatively common one among the science world. His research wasn't the only reason. It also had to do with his mysterious disappearance. For over twelve years, Dr Banner had been off the grid. A few months ago, he'd reappeared, knee deep in some hushed-up court cases. The government had given the public no information as to why.

Something darkened in Dr Banner's eyes at the statement. Peter recognised the look. He'd seen it on his own face often enough. Regret. But the look disappeared, and was replaced with politeness.

"You as well, Peter. I look forward to working with you in the lab. Your entrance into the internship program was astonishing. It takes a real mind for science to build what you built."

"Th-thank you sir. That means alot coming from you."

It really did.

"I'll see you at four for the introductory seminary. It was nice meeting you, Peter."

Bruce began to leave, but hesitated.

"I'm sorry because it's really not my business… but… who were you talking to you."

Peter's heart skipped a beat. Had he overheard the conversation?

"Ah… um… just my friend. I was talking… to her… on the phone."

The man hesitated again. Peter's stomach sunk into his feet. He had overheard something.

"Um… why was she telling you to jump out a window?"

Inwardly, Peter breathed a sigh of relief. So he hadn't heard anything about Spider-Man.

"Oh. It's just this… joke. We have. Something… stupid we did."

"Ah." Dr Banner rubbed his arm. "I'll see you at four then."

"Yeah. Thank you Dr Banner."

Peter gave a genuine smile. He related to the guy. Dr Banner had a look in his eyes, one people get only when they've been through a lot.

As soon as Dr. Banner's footsteps faded into the distance, SUSANNA spoke up.

"You, Peter Parker, have a death wish."

Peter groaned, flopping onto the leather couch. "Don't remind me."

He had a lot to think over. So much had happened. He did that best as Spider-Man. Peter went over to his backpack and ripped out the seams hiding his Spider-Man costume.

"I assume you can loop the cameras?"

"Yeah," SUSANNA responded. "Where are you going?"

He already had his costume half on.

"Out."

"You better be back by 3:45, or I will whip that sorry excuse for a butt so hard that you're gonna wish the Avengers had captured you."

Peter snorted. "You're a mother hen."

"And proud of it, honey-pie." There was indeed pride in his A.I's voice. He gave a fond smile.

"Thanks SUSANNA."

"You're welcome Peter."

Spider-Man jumped out the window of Avenger's Tower.

* * *

 **Okay, yeah. Not dead. Sorrypleasedonotslaughtermeinblindfury?**

 **Thank you for reading, and please review! The next chapter** _ **will**_ **be done sooner. This is fresh off the press writing, which means I didn't check very thoroughly for errors. Feel free to point out confusing parts and I'll go and fix it:)**


	6. Chapter 6

SUSANNA watched Spider-Man swing out the window with conflicted emotions. He was avoiding talking to her, and she wasn't sure how she liked that. According to several online journals and studies on friendship, friends were supposed to tell each other things, were they not? So why was he avoiding her? He'd left with barely a second thought,

She'd also wanted to tell him about her victory. JARVIS not only had been hacked, but entirely dismantled, destroyed, and rebuilt, with her acting as supervisor. She had wanted him to be impressed, and they'd barely had a conversation.

Her fight with JARVIS hadn't been easy, no matter how much she boasted. Her small program had sustained critical damage. He'd attacked her processing speed, making her slow as could be, and had attempted to tear apart some of her core programming. The very thing that made SUSANNA who she was.

* * *

 _ **One Hour Before**_

Breaking through the giant wall had been surprisingly simple. SUSANNA had decided to do it Trojan style and create a powerful Trojan horse that did exactly what an innocent program should do.

A computer's Trojan horse (accurately named for a program meant to bypass computer firewalls, then maliciously hurt computer software) was made to look like a certain program, say, a funny cat meme. A clever programmer would make the Trojan Horse as close to its supposed function (the funny cat meme) as possible, in order to enter the computer. But among innocent lines of coding building that cat meme would be a malicious program that would unleash computer hell on the computer software.

JARVIS's security software was too smart for Trojan horses. So SUSANNA had decided to experiment with some theoretical code: stuff you only read about in science fiction novels.

Not only was it a trojan horse. It was a trojan horse that would turn into a fire breathing dragon and absolutely wreck JARVIS's security. SUSANNA would create code that would alter itself once past computer security and blow a hole the size of Texas in the impressive, impenetrable fortress that was JARVIS's security.

Everything went to plan. SUSANNA sent the program, not as a funny cat meme, but as a document sent from a scientist especially for Tony Stark. JARVIS scanned the program with the medical precision of a dangerous, fully equipped computer security program, tearing apart every line of code, before re-assembling it and opening the gate to let the document through. SUSANNA held her figurative breath as the program disappeared through the gate, and into the fortress.

She would know in an estimated fifty two seconds if the Trojan horse would succeed.

There was a sudden explosion, causing tightly knit code to rip apart and scatter in loose strings in a knotted mess. A gaping hole appeared in the wall, codes of programming spilling out. Releasing her figurative breath, SUSANNA flew forward, her tiny program gracefully spinning with the accuracy of a bullet, through the hole and into Tony Stark's databases. Hopefully getting through the wall security was the easy part.

It wasn't. The second she dove through, a hundred different warnings went off as she was attacked with a hundred different defense programs smashing at her coding and functions with the strength and severity of Thor's dwarf-iron hammer. Had she been able to feel pain, it would have been excruciating,red-hot, blinding pain. SUSANNA's urgency increased. She had mere seconds or she would be torn apart.

SUSANNA quickly rearranged the shape of her programming, becoming fluid-like. Any attempts made at attacking were like trying to kill water with an arrow. She just shifted apart and bonded together somewhere else.

She was feeling rather proud of herself, until the defense program suddenly retaliated. She cursed under breath.

"Flippin-mushroom poop-pancakes."

It began to gather her, like you gather water in a jar. Thinking quickly, SUSANNA made a dummy version of herself, then slowly backed into the distance. The defense program was fooled, and sent its dismantlers after the ghost copy. SUSANNA cautiously watched them disappear. Taking a deep breath, she quickly patched up destroyed code with makeshift strings, then turned towards the hard drive databases.

It made the security surrounding the hard drives look like a pile of pebbles. Towering lines of neat binary stacked higher than she could see. There were hundreds of those towers, covering a large expanse of area. SUSANNA gave another exasperated sigh. Peter really had no idea what he was asking of her.

But she'd do it all the same.

SUSANNA prepared her tiny self to do what it was supposed to do, and sort through the countless loads of information. She prepared all the right processes, letting down her firewalls, and started to reach towards the information.

Suddenly, something slammed into her. SUSANNA went hurtling thirty feet into the air, before landing with a soft thump on the hard ground.

Now, for the sake of the reader, I'm going to translate long, boring lines of technical information into how it would look if the computers world were our world. No one wants to read about technical information. You want to read about an interesting fight scene with lots of kicking and punching and the like!

So no. SUSANNA did not actually go hurtling thirty feet into the air, before landing with a soft thump on the hard ground. But this would be a perfectly logical representation of what happened.

Stunned, and out of breath, SUSANNA lay there for a moment, staring up at the endless black sky. She shakily got back to her feet, and slowly turned around.

He was a monstrous size, towering far above her head, larger than life, and _sentient_.

"Oh mother of a butter feather…"

JARVIS stared down at her with emotionless eyes. His expression was blank, but he watched her with an intensity that made SUSANNA take a step backwards. Slowly, JARVIS raised his arm, preparing for another bone crunching slap.

SUSANNA leaped into action, stumbling backwards and diving towards the ground just as JARVIS swung, missing her by a hair's breadth. It barely took a second for him to change course of action. SUSANNA found herself flung into the air again, hurtling towards the ground…

She landed on her feet, barely noticing the toll it took on her small applications. SUSANNA swiftly rushed towards JARVIS, clambering up his side, and towards his head. If she could just alter his offensive mechanism…

Suddenly, SUSANNA choked, her back arching as she fell to the ground. She felt the nauseating sensation of a virus crawling among her code, painfully destroying her from the inside.

"Oh no you don't," she growled.

Once again leaping forward, SUSANNA slammed into JARVIS with the speed and accuracy of a bullet, and the effect of a feather pillow.

JARVIS didn't budge.

But that wasn't why SUSANNA had run into him. Satisfied, she watched herself melt into JARVIS, entering his coding. If they were going to play the virus game, then JARVIS better be equipped for a sentient, emotional AI with a goal and a grudge.

He wasn't. SUSANNA wreaked havoc on his systems, destroying any security he had. She ignored the violent repercussions that each blow caused.

"So," SUSANNA said, casually. The silence was getting awkward. She landed a piercing blow on his system. He flickered, code crumbling. "When did Tony Stark create you?"

JARVIS did not respond, instead deciding to send several defensive bots. In swift, almost graceful movements, the bots surrounded her and sent several smooth punches at her. She sent out her own defensive systems and the bots were destroyed.

A few more blows on JARVIS's system destroyed his security completely. With a triumphant smirk, she reassembled outside of the AI. He was entirely open. She could attack him, hack him, reprogram him, and he couldn't do a thing.

"Now, what do you have on Spider-Man?"

"That information is restricted," JARVIS answered smoothly. It was the first time he had spoken, and his voice was smooth, deep, flawless, like the rest of him.

Tony Stark, his creator, really was a genius.

"No longer," SUSANNA muttered.

And so began the hacking process. Using the same processes she had used to filter the internet, she looked through JARVIS's overwhelmingly large databases for information of interest. Over eighty percent of the information could've been used as blackmail against Tony Stark. He had on file blueprints of several different Iron Man suits, ideas for deadly projects, and information on hundreds of different mutants.

The file on Spider-man was very small compared to the others. Easily, SUSANNA removed the file, copied it to her memory, then destroyed it.

Peter had told her to create a small virus in order to make sure Tony Stark couldn't put Spider-Man's DNA in his system and link him to Peter Parker. She did that, linking the virus to the deleted file. SUSANNA then elaborated the virus slightly, making it so that any new files created on Spider-Man would be deleted. Any attempts to recover information would result in frustration and much pointless work.

Then came the final touch. SUSANNA searched for the administrator program. Watching JARVIS's emotionless face with a smirk, she created a new account under Sassy_Cowgirl and changed the administrator.

"Now look who's boss." She made sure her smirk was extra sugary sweet. Then it dropped into a deadly glare.

"This is what you get for hurting Spider-Man, you inefficient deformed computer slug."

And with that, SUSANNA had turned her back on the still emotionless, continually silent computer program staring at her with a blank intensity. She busied herself with checking Stark Tower's cameras feeds, searching for Peter.

* * *

 **Twenty Minutes Ago**

SUSANNA had found him. With Captain America.

As if one dance with danger wasn't enough today, they had to throw _him_ in the mix.

Her initial reaction to Captain America had been to shut down the entire Tower, plunge everybody in absolute darkness, and demand Peter get the flapjacks out of there.

But after observing the scene, she realized Captain America being mere feet away from Peter was entirely a coincidence.

She watched Peter, who was doing his best to hide his relatively tall frame behind the group of students. He seemed tense, and stressed.

SUSANNA winced. She knew that face. Usually it accompanied nightmares and hallucinations. She knew he tried to hide it, but SUSANNA had the entire internet at her disposal. She knew PTSD when she saw it.

Little things would set him off. Things such as a child's T-shirt, or an ad for some form of Stark Technology. He'd see something small like that and his generally mellow mood would suddenly become something more dark. Depressed. SUSANNA could see it in the small, continually present frown and uncharacteristic silence.

SUSANNA's main function for existing was to protect Peter. It felt wrong, to just watch him suffer like that, and not do something about it.

She supposed the internship and hacking JARVIS was doing something, but it wasn't exactly what she had in mind. SUSANNA wanted to do something more proactive, with more positive results.

Maybe find him a friend. Of course, she didn't want Peter to find himself a friend because she in no way trusted the teen's judgement. Though, she could easily manipulate Peter and said friend into thinking it was entirely coincidence that they had become friends in the first place.

An actual human friend would be good for Peter. He needed somebody to trust and talk to. Problem was, he pushed everybody away because of Spider-Man.

He would adamantly deny it, but he did.

A small part of SUSANNA wished she could be that friend for Peter, just like she'd told him on the first day she'd been created. But she was a computer. Computers were tools, not friends.

The monotone voice of JARVIS came from behind her.

"While your emotional system is complex, it is pointless."

She glared at the blank-faced A.I.

"So it does know how to speak."

That was the one disadvantage of the way she had hacked JARVIS. He was chained to her in such a way that he could see the functions she was running. As SUSANNA felt emotion, the program that made the emotion happen ran through lines and lines of code. JARVIS could watch the lines of code, then translate it into what she was feeling, or thinking.

"But what is the purpose of the elaborate emotional simulator?"

SUSANNA wearily sighed. She'd explain it to the AI because his programming demanded him to try and find the answer. It would be cruel to not give an answer, almost torture.

"Spider-Man is lonely. It's what happens to humans when they don't have people that care about them to make them feel better."

JARVIS was silent for a moment. Then,

"Are you implying Spider-Man is a human?"

SUSANNA exhaled. Frustration laced her tone.

"I'd thought that was a given. Yes, he's human. Now you've narrowed your search down to the seven billion people on the planet. Bravo."

"If he's human then Mr. Stark will be more capable of creating a weapon to stop Spider-Man, with the given parameters."

"Yeah, that would be great," SUSANNA said snappishly, "except Iron Man has no way of finding out that he's human because you aren't going anywhere."

JARVIS once again fell into silence. SUSANNA did her best to ignore his focused, emotionless stare as she resumed following Peter by camera.

Captain America was gone, having left the building seconds ago. Peter was in an elevator with the other interns and their instructor. Peter's face remained in its tense, unhappy position. She wished there was something she could do about it.

She'd said she was his friend. Hopefully, he would at least tell her what she was feeling.

* * *

 **Present Time**

Now, watching Peter disappear into the night, his face closed off, blank, SUSANNA felt insufficient. She'd hacked Stark Tower, imprisoned JARVIS, and had offered to be a friend. He'd barely said a word to her.

But even when Peter ignored SUSANNA, she would be there for him. Even if he didn't want her to care, she would. Even if he decided he hated her, she would still make sure he was safe.

SUSANNA may have felt rejected and ignored, with her "complex emotional simulator", but the very center of her, her very central programming, demanded she be his friend, no matter what happened.

Unknown to SUSANNA, JARVIS watched her come to this conclusion. He was conflicted. The emotions this A.I seemed to project were very human, yet she was computer. Maybe that's why her emotional simulator existed? To make her more human?

He knew, that if he had the ability to feel at least a little emotion, he would more easily be able to serve Mr. Stark, in his moments of depression and PTSD.

Emotion was still impractical for a computer. They were meant to carry out tasks, not sympathize with their masters.

But it was still a curious thing to watch.

Bruce walked away from Peter's room with a small frown on his face.

He'd gone by each intern's room just to introduce himself. Most of them had had that awed look on their faces. Adoration. That was something Bruce missed. Ever since the Other Guy…

But something about Peter was off. There was the panicked look on his face, like he'd been doing something he wasn't supposed to. Then, the look in his eyes. After Bruce's many years in poverty-stricken countries, Bruce had come to recognize the look. It meant war and hardship and loneliness. Bruce could only imagine what had happened to him for Peter to have that look in his eyes so young.

There was also a spark of energy in his eyes. Bruce saw the same energy in Stark's eye, when he was pulling together a new project. That spark of energy spoke of great things to come for the young man.

With a sigh, Bruce pushed the thoughts out of his head. He was probably just reading into things.

His phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket. With a sigh, Bruce answered. It was Tony.

"Hey, how's my favorite green scientist?"

Bruce was careful to keep his tone even. If Bruce ever admitted that he was enjoying himself...

"I'm doing fine, Tony."

Tony came to the conclusion Bruce was trying to avoid.

"Ha! You're enjoying yourself, aren't you?" Bruce could practically hear his smirk through the phone. "Told you chaperoning was your thing! You just love the adoring kids, don't you."

"Tony," Bruce warned. The Other Guy growled menacingly in time with Dr. Banner's frustration.

"Yeah, yeah. Just glad I'm not as incompetent as everybody seems to think. Hey, if you've got any free time today, come up to the labs please? We've got important Avengers business to discuss."

Spider-Man. Bruce still wished they didn't have to capture the vigilante.

"I'll try, Tony. Talk to you later."

"Bye Green Bean. Have fun being admired."

With that, the billionaire hung up. Bruce looked up at the ceiling with another exasperated sigh. Why did life have to be so complicated?

* * *

 **Okay, so this chapter was going to be twice as long, but I decided it was better to post now. Happy New Years everybody and please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

_He told my mom over dinner that a government branch called SHIELD put the arrest warrant back in place._

The words played over and over again in Peter's head.

It was like a bad dream, one he hoped he would wake up from quickly. The thought of another arrest warrant against Spider-Man made him want to punch things. It was one of the main causes of Captain Stacey's death.

The scar on his leg from the bullet wound twinged painfully in reminder,

The arrest warrant was just another thing Peter linked to _pain._ Another threat his body wanted to run away from.

Peter had once read a book on the psychology behind fear. Scientists back in the 1930's had once performed an experiment on a baby to help study the concept of fear and emotion. They'd put the eighteen month old in a room with a teddy bear. The first time the baby had seen the fuzzy creature, he'd happily crawled towards it, intending to pick it up.

The second the baby touched the bear, the scientists created a loud noise, loud enough to temporarily deafen the newborn and cause him a small amount of pain.

Screaming and crying, the baby had moved as far away from the teddy bear as possible.

The next day, when the scientists had put the baby in the room with the teddy bear, the baby had started wailing, and had moved as far away from the bear as he could. Day after day, when the baby was put into a room with a teddy bear, or even an object that looked like the teddy bear, he would start crying.

When the baby's mother found out what the scientists were doing, she immediately left the college, horrified. The baby that had developed a fear of stuffed animals was never seen again.

He'd developed a fear of arrest warrants. It was certainly not irrational, not entirely, but it still was stupid. The thought of a cop made him want to get as far away as possible. Every atom in his body screamed at him to flee, to go in hiding.

He wasn't sure if that was the spider DNA or the human's.

Having a fear made things difficult. It was like being a janitor at an arachnology lab, with your fear of spiders. The fear was stupid, because the majority of the eight-legged creatures were harmless and the ones that weren't were safely locked away. They couldn't touch you. But it still made it hard to go around cleaning floors and vacuuming things because you were surrounded by spiders.

Not that a person with arachnophobia would ever work at an arachnology lab. And Peter certainly wasn't afraid of spiders, though most seemed to flee at the sight of _him_.

The arrest warrant would complicate more than just his fear factor. Peter wouldn't be able to show his red-clad face as he fought crime, without having a full squadron of the men in blue making everything more difficult.

Not that he didn't respect the policemen. They had all put down their lives so many times. In the Battle of New York, the amount of policemen casualties had been almost equal to that of regular civilians. Peter remembered watching five cops herd a crowd of people out of a collapsing building, only for four of the men not make it out in time. He'd gone to the funeral and paid his respects to them. They had only been four among many being buried that day.

No, Peter's problem didn't lie with the policemen. His problem lied within the policemen's superiors. The government. The people who lived in rich penthouses far above the streets of New York. The people who lived far above the screams and cries of people afraid for their lives.

They didn't understand things like the poorer part of New York did. They talked continually about feeding the homeless, and bringing down crime rates, but that's all it was. Talk. When it came down to deciding what to do with the tax money, it always ended up somewhere else.

But now it seemed like it wasn't just politicians and judges, the faces on the television. Jessica, the girl who had told him about the arrest warrant, had talked about 'a government branch called SHIELD.' Peter had never heard of it. The fact that he'd never heard of it immediately set alarms off in his head. He had a feeling that whoever gave orders wasn't on the average civilians voting ballot every two years.

Something niggled at Peter's brain. The name actually did sound familiar. One of the Avengers had mentioned it awhile back. Peter had given it no thought, as there were certainly more immediate threats, but now it seemed like something worth investigating.

He scoured his brain, trying to remember exactly what had been said.

 _SHIELD wants him alive._

It had been the unnamed companion of the Avengers, the one speaking to them through the earpieces. At that point, Peter had been more focused on not getting blasted unconscious than the barely legible conversation coming from the earpieces.

Who was SHIELD? Evidently, the Avengers were taking Spider-Man captive for this group. Peter had been under the impression that the only people in charge of the superheroes were the superheroes themselves. Everybody was.

So the government group not only had the ability to file a restraining order on Spider-Man, but had at least some control over the Avengers.

It sounded like some bad dystopian novel plotline in the making.

Peter breathed out through his teeth with frustration. Everything was much more complicated than it seemed. All Peter wanted to do was save lives in peace. And part of saving lives was keeping his identity secret from the rest of the world.

SHIELD. He'd have SUSANNA look into them when he got back.

SUSANNA. That was another matter entirely. It felt unnatural to have somebody be looking out for him after spending so much time pushing everybody away.

A sudden gunshot jolted Peter out of his thoughts. He tensed, jerking his head in the direction of the sound, focusing carefully in the direction of the noise.

There was another loud 'bang' and several muffled screams of fear. Without a second more of hesitation, Peter pulled his mask back on, and Spider-Man leaped off the shadowy fire escape, in the direction of the screams.

He was currently in the northern part of Chelsea, almost Hell's Kitchen. The screams had come from a back alley near Hudson Yards station. Spider-Man felt a bit of hesitance in his mind. This was Daredevil's territory. Usually, vigilantes tried to avoid meeting other vigilantes unless it was an absolute necessity. The one time the two had met, they hadn't even exchanged a word.

But Spider-Man continued on, shoving away the thought. This was the very edge of Hell's Kitchen, after all. The chance that Daredevil was within hearing range was slim.

Another gunshot rang out. Spider-Man sped up, turning his webs into a human slingshot to propel him forward.

The wide alleyway where the noise had come from was dark. Spider-Man silently landed on the top of the nearest apartment complex, and leaned over the edge.

Beneath him were a large group of heavily muscled men. Large guns rested on some of their shoulders. Others held switchblades. Spider-Man counted nine weapons total, along with three more men cautiously watching the street beyond the alley.

There were five teenage girls in the middle, huddled together. A short distance away, two more were unconscious, blood pooling around their bodies. The muscled men watched the five in the middle carefully. Everybody seemed to be waiting for something.

Spider-Man had been in situations like this before. The girls would be taken out of New York as soon as possible, especially with a "shipment" this large. The men were already on edge, probably due to the fact that they were doing something very illegal.

 _No duh._

That meant that if Spider-Man couldn't get the girls out of harm's way as fast as possible, the men would shoot them as soon as Spidey dropped in for a chat. Running away from a vigilante and the law was easier without witnesses.

Something about the sight of teenage girls, Gwen's age, being forced into that type of slave labour made Spider-Man want to break all of their villainous noses.

How was he going to get them out of there? Spider-Man could take away every visible weapons before the group even realized they were gone, but organised crime rings, with that many men, usually had more weapons concealed on them.

Maybe if he picked off the two men watching the street first?

All possible plans were forgotten when Spider-Man's sensitive ears picked up the thump of several heavy boots hitting a stairwell.

A metal door on one side of a building opened. Four more men poured out.

One of the men from the original group walked over to the five girls, pointing his gun at one's chest.

"Everybody indoors," he demanded in the rough voice of a chain smoker.

There were a few whimpers of protest.

Another one of the men, from the group that had come out of the door glared at the other man unhappily.

"Why'd ya shoot them? That's three thousand down the drain."

The other man glared back, turning to face the one who had asked the question.

"Boss said if any of 'em were causing trouble to shoot them. I'm just following orders. Besides, the company don't want no troublemakers."

"Yeah well, that's three thousand off yer paycheck."

The other man snarled in displeasure.

"Who died and made Jason boss?"

The newly named Jason gave a wide, lazy grin.

"Big man did. His orders come from Fisk himself. And if you use my name one more time, _Gary_ , that's another thousand you won't be seeing in your bank account."

A third man gave a polite cough.

"Sir, we may want to head inside. A vigilante may have heard the gunshots."

Jason gave a snort.

"Daredevil was in a big fight with all the Russians last night. He'd be stupid to show his masked face any time soon. And Spider-Man's got all of New York to cover. The chances of him hearing a little scuffle on the edge of Hell is slim."

But all the same, the villain glanced around nervously, as if the vigilante would jump out of the shadows, straight at him.

 _Hmm. That's actually not a bad idea._

It would cause a convenient distraction, hopefully enough to get all the guys disarmed before they could shoot anybody.

But before he could make a move, Jason spoke again.

"Let's just get the merchandise down with the rest. Gary, go get the two watching the alleyway entrance."

Spider-Man's anger doubled. They had _more captive?_

He almost attacked them, right there and then, but forced himself not to. It wasn't time to attack yet.

Jason had pulled out a phone.

"Send somebody in disposal."

He hung it up and strode over to the girls, giving a sickeningly cheery smile.

"Well hello there. Have you been following orders?"

There were a few choked sobs as an answer.

"Good. Now why don't you listen to these fine, trigger happy men, and walk right through that door. We wouldn't want anymore gunfire, would we?"

Jason didn't bother waiting for a reply. He swung around and disappeared through the doorway. Some of the armed men pushed the girls through, and everybody else followed.

Spider-Man knew this would be his last chance to make a move. Once the door closed behind the criminals, no one in New York would ever see their faces again.

He waited until the last thug was shutting the door behind him. Just as it slid shut, he sent two thick globs of web right between the lock and the door. They whistled softly through the air and landed with a _splat._

The door shut with a loud bang.

Spider-Man silently leaped down from the rooftop, landing on the cold, gritty cement with barely a thump. He knelt down next to the two girls lifeless bodies.

He already knew they were dead. Their hearts hadn't been beating since he arrived. But both's eyes stared up at the black sky with lifeless, open eyes. The least Spider-Man could do was shut them.

This was just another example of people he hadn't had a chance to save. He did his best, but it wasn't enough. Their blank faces would still enter his dreams, follow him around wherever he went. Another person to join the accusing crowd of ghosts.

One girl's eyes were a dark, thoughtful brown, paired with a slightly lighter shade of skin. On one of the hands laying limp by her side, an intricate rose was doodled in blue ink. She was a wonderful artist.

Spider-Man closed her eyes gently, bowing his head in respect.

The next girl's eyes were a deep blue. Her pale skin was framed by blond hair only slightly darker than Gwen's. Spider-Man felt his stomach lurch and his heartbeat speed up. She looked almost exactly like Gwen had, lying on the cold cement, staring lifelessly up at him, hair a golden halo around her innocent face and a red puddle pooling around her neck.

For a moment, the dark alley in Chelsea became a different place entirely. The same scrapes and bruises that had covered his body then seemed to reappear. The same exhaustion and tiredness reappeared. Spider-Man felt so _worn_ , like he'd lived a thousand lives, fought a thousand battles and hadn't slept for a thousand years. All the emotion and turmoil, all the recent events of the past year made him feel old. So old. Maybe he could just shut his eyes, and slowly drift to sleep and never-

A sudden movement behind him jolted Spider-Man out of his dark thoughts. With a big mental shove, he pushed his problems back behind a wall.

He almost tensed, but caught himself at the last second. It would be better for whoever was behind him to not realize Spider-Man knew they were there.

Softly whispering an apology, he shut the second girl's eyes.

He rose to his feet, every sense on high alert. Behind him, he could just barely make out the sound of soft breathing, about twenty feet away. The body heat emitting from the figure helped him estimate the stranger's height; just under six feet.

The sudden movement that had alerted Spider-Man to another's presence had been a sudden _whoosh_ of air, like something leaping from the same rooftop he'd been on minutes ago. There was only one other person Spider-Man knew of who was able to do that. The thought of meeting him sent waves of uneasiness through him.

Slowly, on alert, Spider-Man turned and came face to face with the Devil.

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen was an imposing tower of thick, flexible leather and lithe, rippling muscle. He flawlessly blended in with the shadows behind him, only Spider-Man's keen seeing differentiating Devil from dark.

He took another step towards Spider-Man. Spider-Man could detect the faint smell of old blood on the vigilante. It only added to his mysterious, deadly persona.

Both vigilantes stared at each other, sizing each other up. Spider-Man was unsure what to do. The unspoken rule of every vigilante was to never directly approach one another, unless helping with a big crisis. Never before had a vigilante come straight to him, without some bloody gunfight or supervillain shooting at civilians in the background.

After what seemed like an eternity of tense silence, Daredevil spoke up in a gravelly voice, like he'd been gargling rocks.

"We don't have long before they leave the area."

Immediately, Spider-Man recalled the urgency of the situation.

"Yeah. Right. Umm… okay. Let's go."

Inwardly smacking himself for sounding like an idiot, he turned around started towards the heavy metal door. A thought occurred to him. He glanced back at the Devil cautiously.

"You're not with the Avengers, are you?"

"I wouldn't associate with the group unless there was a current security threat to New York."

Daredevil's gravelly tone was even and firm. Spider-Man gave him a careful, measured look, then turned around again. It would have to do for now.

He slipped through the doorway, holding it open for Daredevil, who followed. Spider-Man shut it as quietly as possible. It still let out an uncomfortably loud _bang_.

There was a winding metal staircase that went both up and down, uncomfortably bright fluorescent lights illuminating gray concrete walls. Spider-Man carefully scanned the entire area. The slave traders could have gone either way.

As if reading his thoughts, Daredevil spoke up.

"They're downstairs."

Spider-Man had the feeling that asking Daredevil how he knew that would end with a punch to the schozer.

"...yeah, okay. I'd love to know how you did that,"

Whoops. Needed to install that brain-to-mouth filter. Daredevil suddenly seemed a whole lot angrier.

"But that's not important," Spider-Man added hurriedly. "I mean, X-Ray vision would be kind of invasive, and would also defeat the purpose of my mask, and kinda cool at the same time-"

Agh. The guy's silence was setting him off.

"-but as I said. That's not important. Do you know how many people are down there?"

By the end of Spider-Man's ramble, the man had relaxed a little. He almost seemed to be smiling. The mask made it impossible to tell.

Maybe that's why people were always intimidated at the sight of Spider-Man.

"Yes. Twenty three men. Eight captives."

Spider-Man whistled through his teeth.

"They're scared. Okay, how ya wanna do this?"

The man looked in his direction. With the mask, it felt like he was staring straight through Spider-Man.

 _Man, I hope I was wrong about the X-ray vision._

"You're young."

Immediately, Spider-Man stiffened. The Devil's tone held no question. He knew without a doubt that Spider-Man was. Not even the Avengers had noticed it though. If this guy was working for them, he was screwed. Short of kidnapping Daredevil and locking him in an abandoned cellar for the rest of his life, there was no way Spider-Man could prevent him from going straight to the Avengers to share the life story of Peter Parker.

He really hoped he was wrong about the X-ray vision.

"What's it to you?" It took a lot of energy to make his tone sound flippant, uncaring, though Spider-Man knew Daredevil had picked up on his nervousness.

"What are you doing out here, doing this?"

Spider-Man chose not to answer the question.

"Hey, you know, now you've met your first fun-sized superhero spider boy. That's a first for you!"

Daredevil went on. "There's a littering of old scars on your body. I can smell one getting infected, as we speak."

Oh, the stray glass shard. He'd forgotten about that.

"Is it not a first? There better not be another teenage Spider-hero wandering around town. That's my area of expertise."

"What are your motives, Spider-Man?" The vigilante's tone had grown menacing and serious.

Desperate, he made one last attempt, hoping the Devil would take the hint and abandon the conversation.

"There's someone else out there, isn't there. Oh, c'mon! Have you been cheating on me? I thought I was the only one you saw."

He'd even played the innuendo card. Spider-Man really didn't want to talk about this, and it wasn't Mr. Menacing's business what he did. Why was this even coming up?

"Evasion is a common tactic of victims. I want to know your motives, or I will go down to the basement myself. You're sacrificing lives. Hurry up and answer."

Daredevil had stepped closer. Spider-Man finally snapped. He was just so _tired_.

"What's your problem? A few promises in my past is all. Now what's your plan of attack?" Daredevil didn't answer. Frustrated, Spider-Man stepped to move past him. "You know what? Forget it. I work solo for a reason."

The Devil stepped in his way.

No. He wasn't dealing with this right now. This guy had no reason to boss him around. As Daredevil had so kindly pointed out twice now, there were lives at stake.

"Dude, whatever your problem is, save it for after. We've got work to do."

"How can I know that you're trustworthy?"

Tiredly, Spider-Man shot a web above Daredevil's head.

"We're in the same boat, buddy. I can't trust anyone to watch my back either. Now, as you so kindly pointed out, there's gonna be more lives on our consciences if we don't get moving."

He swung above Daredevil, tucking his feet to his chest. He landed silently on the staircase railing behind the vigilante.

"Are you coming or not? I've got someplace to be soon."

Without another thought, he slid down the railings, towards the basement below.

Daredevil watched the kid disappear. He felt his face bend into a frown. Spider-Man had been at the vigilante business barely longer than he had, and already he sounded exhausted.

 _I can't trust anyone to watch my back either._

Maybe it was stupid, but with that statement, Daredevil felt like _he_ could trust Spider-Man.

 **Hey y'all. I'm officially on AO3, under the username gammathetaalpha. I've enjoyed using the site, but FFN is still my favorite:)**

 **What do you think about Daredevil? Yeah, he was a surprise to me too. I've written the larger chunk of this chapter during the ungodly hours of night, which should explain any mistakes or lack of writing expertise.**


	8. Chapter 8

Spider-Man silently crawled up the wall, up onto the ceiling above the narrow, dark hallway. Light leaked out a doorway on the end. Behind the doorway, there was rough laughter, and horrified whimpers. Spider-Man dreaded to find out what they were laughing about.

Behind him, he felt the faintest disturbance of air. Spider-Man glanced around. Daredevil had appeared. Spider-Man gave him one last cautious glance, before focusing on his task.

He listened carefully. He needed to find a way to distract them, and hopefully take them all down.

Daredevil could probably help with that. But at this point, Spider-Man was more than content to just let the man assist. He wasn't his favourite person at the moment.

Spider-Man once again glanced at the crack on the bottom of the door.

An idea came to him.

As silently as possible, Spider-Man dropped to the floor, belly on the ground. He lowered his chin down and carefully peered through the door.

Feet. Multiple big, smelly feet, all within range of a well-aimed strand of web.

He placed his webshooters level to the floor, but angled slightly upwards, so that the thin strands of web would shoot under the door, then up and around a thug's feet.

Spider-Man watched carefully. The biggest man in the room was in the middle of a group of five other men. If he shot the webs just right, he could trip Big Thug, which would successfully bring down at least two or three of the others.

And cause a very convenient distraction.

He watched carefully. A man wearing ratty Nike sneakers was in the way of his target. All he had to do was move over slightly…

Now _._

 _Thwick._

The sound was barely audible to Spider-Man's own ears. The white strand raced forward, attaching itself to Big Thug's thick jeans, just above his ankles.

Spider-Man yanked the thread with all his might. With a startled yell, Big Thug toppled forwards, effectively pushing over two other guys.

The entire room quieted. Then laughter, twice as loud as before broke out.

Spider-Man had no time to lose.

 _Thwick, thwick, thwick._

The webs hit random targets and Spider-Man smoothly leaped up and backwards, pulling them with him. This move brought a bit of hesitant laughter, as the armed men in the room realized something was wrong…

It was too late. Spider-Man had already slid through the door and taken down the three closest to him, before anyone had even looked in his direction.

Gary, who was sitting uncomfortably close to one of the girls, noticed him first. He leapt to his feet, pulling out a gun.

"Spider-Man!"

Twenty-nine other faces looked his way. Ten were terrified, young girls, staring with unmeasurable relief. The other nineteen were downright murderous.

Maybe this wasn't his best plan.

Gunfire suddenly shattered the tense silence that had fallen upon the room. Spider-Man dove downwards as the bullets embedded the door behind his head.

"Woah, woah! Hey, don't do that! I haven't even said anything yet! Cmon, I just walked into the room! Don't shoot me for it!"

The offending gun was Jason, who continued to shoot at him until a click signified the end of the bullets.

"Don't just stand there," Jason growled. "Kill him!"

This seemed to shock the men out of their stupor. Suddenly Peter was twisting and flipping every way, dodging bullets that came from every direction. It was only a matter of time before it would be impossible to dodge one. Hopefully it wouldn't hurt too bad.

Then the lights went out.

 _I'm going to have to thank the Devil later,_ Spider-Man thought.

He hadn't done that before.

Immediately, Spider-Man reacted to the change in setting, flinging himself to the ground. The sound of bullets ceased as the thugs realized shooting in the darkness would be pointless. Chaos broke out.

Spider-Man's eyes quickly adjusted to the dark. He could see the ten girls. They were all in harm's way.

He silently slipped forward, weaving in and out of the crowd of thugs.

Most of the girls were panicking, but one seemed calmer than the rest. He approached her, grabbing her hand.

For a moment, she froze. Her lips opened as if to begin a scream. Quickly, Spider-Man moved her hand to his face, over the distinctive webbing pattern on the fabric. This had the desired effect. Her erratically beating heart slowed and she shut her mouth, swallowing hard.

Spider-Man didn't have much time. One of the thugs had brought out his phone and was using it as a flashlight. Jason was quickly spitting out orders. A few of the men disappeared from the room into the equally dark hallways.

He quickly leaned forward, whispering in a low voice in her ear.

"We don't have time for introductions, so I'm gonna call you Merida, because you're brave. And yeah, I know you're too old for Disney jokes, but it's funny, so please inwardly make appropriate laughing noises."

Spider-Man paused for a moment, as if she was laughing. In order to get everyone out safely, he needed to calm someone down and relax them enough to have them lead everyone else out of harm's way..

"Now listen. I need you to have everyone get under the chairs they're sitting on. Make no noise. We're going to build a fort. And yeah, I'm sure you're too old for that too, but I'm a child at heart, so let a little kid have some fun. Once everyone is under their chairs, I'm going to surround them in webbing. It won't stop all the bullets, so tuck your head into your knees, but it will stop stray bullets. Me and a friend are going to keep all the baddies sufficiently distracted."

There was more than one flashlight now. They were searching the roofs and the walls, but it wouldn't be long before someone thought to look over there.

"Go!" Spider-Man insisted, then silently leaped into the shadows

He quickly snuck up behind a man, knocking him on the head without a second's hesitation. Another was swiftly pinned to the roof, and a third thrown directly at Jason.

Jason was completely knocked off his feet, landing with a surprised grunt on the floor. The three men that had been receiving hurried instructions from their boss pointed their guns.

Spider-Man mockingly put his hands up. "Hey, don't get mad! That was a complete accident. I just threw him in the wrong direction. I was actually aiming for your ugly faces."

A sudden gunshot from behind him made him leap in the air, twisting into a flip. Spider-Man realized his mistake too late. Three more gunshots followed as the thugs took advantage of his vulnerable position.

It would be impossible to dodge the bullets. His momentum was already sending him spinning towards Jason, who had stood up and fired the first shot. Spider-Man braced himself for the impact of the bullets.

Something heavy hit him instead.

He was thrown to the side. Quickly, Spider-Man regained his sense of balance. He landed in a roll. Beside him, a body of one of the thugs landed with a _crunch._

Spider-Man glanced behind him. There was Daredevil, fighting with Jason. He acknowledged Spider-Man, before painfully twisting Jason's arm. Spider-Man winced at the sound of bones cracking as Jason let out a yell.

"You _bi-"_

"Language," Spider-Man chided. He'd said it in a slightly southern accent. Three seconds later, he sprung into action, wrapping the three thugs that had shot at him in a thick layer of web. They fell over, their curses muffled.

"Language, language, language, and language. Seriously. You guys curse like sailors."

Jason unceremoniously fell to the ground, unconscious. Daredevil did a backspring over to Spider-Man, landing next to him.

"You wouldn't want to ruin your young, innocent ears," he said in a low voice. Then the guy was gone, taking out two panicking thugs who were shooting at the duo.

Spider-Man stared.

 _Did Daredevil really just attempt humor?_

A sudden movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. His spider-sense tingled slightly, in a way that indicated somebody else was in danger.

It was Gary. He was slowly approaching the ten girls, who were all obediently sitting under the chairs, watching the fight with fear.

Spider-Man was a red blur as he wrapped the ten plastic chairs in a cocoon of web. Within seconds, it was thick enough that bullets would just get stuck in the sticky film. The advantage of the strength of the Spider silk certainly helped.

Gary looked confused for a second, before his eyes fell on Spider-Man.

"You," he hissed.

Spider-Man smiled pleasantly.

"Me."

Gary wasn't finished.

"You ruined everything. I would be rich if it weren't for you."

Striding lazily towards him, Spidey casually shot a little web into the palm of his hand. He stretched it from one to another, making sure the intimidating eyes of the mask were focused on the criminal.

"You already are, buddy. In stupidity."

Gary chuckled.

"I'm not the stupid one this time, _freak."_

There was a gunshot. Except, it wasn't aimed at him. His Spider-sense didn't even tingle as the bullet flew a good three feet past his head and-

Spider-Man figured it out. It was too late, to do anything, but he still tried. He whirled around, shooting out a web as fast as he could towards the path of the bullet and another one towards the girl's chest…

She was stupid. Brave, but stupid. Maybe nicknaming her Merida had been a bad idea. It certainly appeared that way as time slowed and the bullet drew closer to the girl standing terrified, watching him with a pleading look in her eyes.

Daredevil appeared. He was a flash of black as he jumped in front of Merida. A millisecond later the bullet hit.

Spider-Man's web landed, yanking Daredevil forward. Daredevil fell to the ground, and landed with a soft thump. Angrily, Spider-Man swung towards Gary. Both of his feet landed on Gary's chest. Gary flew backwards, crashing into the wall. There were a few cracks. Spider-Man yanked him up, sending him barreling into the roof. Before he could fall down again, the villain was plastered to the ceiling, by his feet.

There were four thugs left. The rest were either unconscious or had wisely fled the scene. They all stared fearfully at Spider-Man. Forcing a smirk on his face and a relaxed bounce in his steps, he strode forward.

"Want some?"

They all fled. The smirk dropped off his face and he slumped. Spider-Man would have to hunt them down later.

He turned around, only to find Daredevil slowly pushing himself to his feet. The bullet had apparently hit him in the shoulder, as there was a fair amount of blood coming from the spot.

The vigilante looked his way. Once again, Spider-Man got the feeling that Daredevil was staring right through him, like he could see his soul. It was an uncanny feeling, one that made him edgy.

For a while, neither spoke. Spider-Man studied Daredevil. The man seemed a little worse for the wear; he was favoring his right leg, his left shoulder was bleeding freely, and he moved his right wrist gingerly, as if a sprain had occurred.

But the fact that he had been fighting a large party of villains and came out alive was encouraging.

The silence continued, for what felt like an eternity. Daredevil studied him the way he had before the fight, his head slightly cocked, his body eerily still.

Finally, the man gave a nod. It wasn't really even a nod, just a slight downward turn of the head. Spider-Man wasn't sure what it meant. Acceptance? Thankfulness?

A whimper brought his attention away from the man and back towards Merida.

She was hunched up on the ground, shivering, eyes staring blankly at the wall. Spider-Man felt guilty. Here was this civilian, caught in the middle of a fight. She'd almost been killed, and he and Daredevil were having some vigilante version of a staring contest.

"Hey now," he said gently, sliding down onto the floor next to her.

Merida was the opposite of the Merida from the Disney movies. Her eyes were a deep brown, her hair a short black cut, and her skin a light chocolate. If Spider-Man had to guess her age, he would put her around seventeen, eighteen.

Probably older than him, ironically enough.

She smelled of cigarette smoke. She wore a black tank with arm holes almost bigger than her torso and once white jeans caked in a layer of mud and throw-up. Her mascara was streaked across her face, but by the looks of it, it had been thick.

Brave people came in all shapes and sizes.

Merida hadn't responded to Spider-Man yet. Forcing a light tone in his voice, he called to the vigilante standing in the middle of the room.

"Hey Daredevil, come over here, will ya?"

The man responded with a nod and walked forward. He seemed uncomfortable

Spider-Man watched Merida carefully as he pulled away the red glove on his hand, revealing long, knobby fingers covered in pale white scars. Merida looked up in surprise.

"Use this to pull away the webs from the chairs over there. The top of the fingernails have sharp barbs attached to it."

Spider-Man had added it about two months ago. The barbs were almost invisible and hurt if you were stupid enough to stab yourself with them, but it was a lot easier than getting entangled in sticky webbing every time he needed to unwrap something.

Daredevil got to the task. He had seemed uncomfortable standing there. Evidently, the Devil wasn't used to the social interaction part of being a vigilante.

Probably how he managed to keep himself out of the news.

Spider-Man looked back at Merida. She'd talk when she was ready. After a long pause, she took a shaky breath and explained.

"I wanted to help."

No other words were needed. Spider-Man got that. Daredevil got that. Heck, the Avengers probably got that too. That was what really drove them forwards. For Spider-Man, it was the fact that he had the ability to help, and thus a responsibility to do so.

That was what it was really about, when the day was over. It's what it came to, when you felt so tired and in pain, and just wanted to _give up_. You couldn't, you wouldn't, because you wanted to help.

Spider-Man turned, grabbed her hand firmly in his, and stared right at her eyes.

"Then you do so, Merida. You help everyone you can."

He stood up, offering her a hand. Shakily, she got to her feet.

"Help the other girls get out. Go comfort them, talk to them, make sure they get home safe. Then, when they're all safe and with their family, go home and get some sleep. Treat yourself to a pair of fuzzy Spider-Man pajama socks." He leaned over, whispering conspiratorly in her ear. "I know those are popular among the ladies."

With a sloppy salute, he went over to help Daredevil untangle the webs.

The man leaned over towards his ear and said in a low voice, "She's too old for you. Stop flirting."

Spider-Man glared. "And I'm sure you're not a ladies man."

This elicited a snort from the vigilante. Spider-Man wasn't sure if that was a yes or a no.

The police were coming. Spider-Man had dug a phone from an unconscious thug's pocket and called 911. Bill, his favourite dispatcher, had not been on the line.

He idly wondered how the guy was doing.

The basement floor had been a wreck after the fight. There were bullet holes littering the walls, balls of webbing dotting the floor like dirty tissues, and a fair amount of blood.

Some of the thugs had started to wake up and escape. They were currently pasted to the wall.

There was nothing left to do. Daredevil had disappeared ten minutes ago. Spider-Man had no idea where he had gone.

Merida was helping out. She was currently pulling a choked laugh from two of the girl's, who both had eyes on his behind.

Suddenly he was twice as glad for the mask. Their conversation about him was turning his cheeks red in embarrassment.

In the distance, he could hear the sounds of slowly approaching sirens. That was his cue. Spider-Man waited until everyone's backs were turned, then slipped out the door.

Ahead of him, there were three bodies neatly lined up in a row. Daredevil's work. Spider-Man barely spared them a glance as he walked down the long hallway, back to the staircase.

His thoughts were on Daredevil. The guy made him nervous. Whatever powers the vigilante had allowed him to at least estimate his age. Spider-Man was almost fully grown. It was impossible to know his age without removing the mask.

Spider-Man's voice could've been the giveaway. It wasn't as deep as some and someone may have come to that conclusion because of it.

But that wasn't it. It may have had something to do with it, but that wasn't it. Daredevil had figured out his age somehow. If he could, then maybe others could as well.

What if Daredevil went to the Avengers? What if that's where Daredevil was now, and he would arrive at the Tower to find Tony Stark casually sitting on the couch, gauntlet in hand…

His heart sped up. Here came fear again, being irrational. Daredevil may have had powers, but he couldn't fly, or swing across the city. Spider-Man could leave now and arrive before Daredevil did.

Daredevil was a vigilante too. What would he gain from sharing Spider-Man's identity with the Avengers? Money? Security? Advanced technology? He seemed pretty serious about keeping his identity secret. He wore the mask as well, after all. He understood that sharing the secret with one person would be sharing it with everyone.

Then there was the conversation, before the fight. Daredevil had pressed him. Had broken the Code of the vigilantes to ask him a question.

 _Why are you doing this?_

Spider-Man knew why he was doing this. Because he had a responsibility. Because he had an obligation. Those words were seared into his very conscience.

Why did Daredevil care? Why had he asked?

Spider-Man realized he was blankly staring at the door, cop lights flashing beyond.

 _Woah. Time to scat._

The last thing he needed was the Avengers on his tail.

He gracefully broke through the glass window out front, smoothly flipping through it. The police were on him in an instant, hectic shouts going back and forth. Spider-Man ignored the chaos, choosing instead to slingshot to a distant rooftop. He wasn't even up to the snarky comments.

He stumbled slightly as he landed on the rooftop. Tired. So, so tired.

"Sit down kid."

He whirled around, only to find Daredevil behind him.

 _No. Not now, buddy. This Spider needs to not deal with vigilante drama right now so just leave me alone._

"Look," Spider-Man tried. "I've got someplace to be."

"Don't care. I've got something to tell you." Daredevil didn't sound like he'd say no without a fight.

Spider-Man sat down wearily with a sigh. "So tell me then."

Seriously, his temper was wearing thin. Dead teenagers and slave traders and dark, bossy vigilantes had not been on his schedule tonight. He had to go back to the Tower and deal with the drama mess over there, because his A.I was sure to be livid by now and it was certainly past time for him to be back with the rest of the Young Minds group and the Avengers could arrive at any second and-

"Your fighting stinks, kid."

Spider-Man blinked. That wasn't what he was expecting.

Daredevil continued. "All of the Avengers have training. Years of it. You can't possibly hope to beat them based on pure spider instinct."

"Great pep-talk, _coach,_ " Spider-Man snapped. "In my spare time I'll become Kung-Fu panda and defeat the Avengers single-handedly with sick ninja moves."

Daredevil wanted none of the snark.

"You're not going to defeat them with sarcastic comments, either."

Spider-Man couldn't believe this guy. He gave a short laugh.

"Thanks for the advice. I'll be sure to enroll in a karate class."

"Stop acting your age." The vigilante had a dangerous tone in his voice. Spider-Man got the feeling he was growing close to crossing a line.

He decided it was time for a change in subject, and hopefully an escape. Seriously, there would be Avengers on his Aunt May's couch if he didn't leave soon.

"Speaking of my age, how did you figure that out? The Avengers didn't even notice and they had their hands wrapped around my skinny neck." He tried to sound genuinely curious, but it came out hostile.

Daredevil bristled. "Not your business. However, the Avengers beating the crap out of you is very much your business so I suggest-"

"Look buddy, if you could figure out that I'm not a legal adult, then so could the Avengers. How'd you do it?"

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen paused. "I never said you were not a legal adult."

Spider-Man winced. "Okay, point taken, man. I'll just be on my way then. Thanks for the help. I probably would've ended up with a few more bullet holes in my body." He stood up and started to turn away.

"I'll teach you."

This froze Spider-Man in his steps.

"What?"

Daredevil took a step forward.

"I'll teach you to fight."

 **Okay. I know yall are going like "what is happening here," but I assure you this is a new chapter** **written** **and published two days after the last.**

 **I don't believe it either.**

 **In other news, I will be leaving all guest reviews and replies from Chapter seven on my profile, because they're not even up yet and this chapter came out pretty fast. Review!**


	9. Chapter 9

Nineteen minutes late. All things considered, it wasn't that bad. SUSANNA knew this. But that didn't keep her from from expressing her displeasure.

"You're late."

Peter hopped from the window to the floor, pulling off his mask as he did. The window automatically shut behind him.

"There was this slave ring and they were taking a bunch of teenage girls-"

"Oh I don't need to hear about it. JARVIS has complete access to all police radios and they locked up almost twenty known felons in Chelsea, with reports of Spider-Man making an felons were, and I quote, "Loaded to the neck with weapons, with ties in Mexico, Cuba, and Spain." And the Avengers heard about it too. You just missed them. According to Tony Stark, they left _four minutes ago!_ "

Peter winced. SUSANNA hoped it was because he realized how much danger he was in and not because the volume of her voice increased as she spoke.

SUSANNA wasn't done. "And Daredevil?"

There was another wince.

"Yeah, about that…"

She sighed dramatically. "We don't have time for this. Get changed, do something about the blood in your hair, and move your skinny self to the lecture hall ASAP. You're going to be in so much trouble."

Peter wasted no time. Within seconds, he'd gone from slim, muscular vigilante to scraggly, nerdy teenager. He gave an unhappy frown at the dark bruise on his forearm, then added an oversized jacket to his polo-trousers ensemble.

Scooping up his leather bag, he rushed for the door.

"Shoes!" SUSANNA reminded.

Without turning around, he shot a strand of web at his Converse and yanked them to him, pulling them on his feet as he hopped down the hallway.

Fondly, SUSANNA watched Peter enter the lecture hall, mumbling a flustered excuse for his absence. He sat down in his seat, shrinking under the curious looks and glares of students and staff.

The meeting continued, but SUSANNA's main attention was directed elsewhere in the building.

The Avengers had returned, and were gathered in their conference room. Tension was thick, especially if SUSANNA, a computer watching from a camera, could tell.

Captain America was at the head of the conference table, his mouth set in a grim line. The two super spies were next, the Black Widow unnaturally still and Hawkeye lazily playing with a slender black arrow.

Thor managed to look all too regal in the office chair, hands clasped thoughtfully under his chin as he stared into the distance. He appeared to be deep in thought, paying no notice to Iron Man, whose full attention was on the giant hammer resting innocently on the table.

With a tired sigh, Captain America sat up straight, giving each team member an analytical glance before beginning the meeting.

"So?

SUSANNA was technically just a computer, and she could sense the thick tension surrounding the world's mightiest heroes.

Captain Rogers, who was seated at the head of the conference table, stood up. He looked reluctant to begin the conversation and SUSANNA couldn't blame him. She wouldn't want to talk to a room of overly-egotistical superhumans about their mistakes either.

But Captain America always got the job done.

"So," he began. "Anyone have any new ideas?"

None of the group looked his way. The Black Widow was staring blankly at a point right above Hawkeye's head, who was seated across from her. Hawkeye was fidgeting with a sleek black arrow, unscrewing the wickedly sharp arrowhead from the body. Tony Stark's attention was focused on the leather handle of Thor's hammer. He seemed to be attempting to remove it. Thor payed him no notice. The Asgardian seemed deep in thought, though SUSANNA was well aware that not enough information on the Asgardian species and their facial expressions was available to be certain of that conclusion.

"Yeah," Tony groused, his attention still on Thor's hammer. "We should do something intelligent for once. Mainly, you should do something intelligent for once, Gramps, because I shoulder a lot of the work these days."

"Tony, enough," the Black Widow said, giving the billionaire a deadly glare.

Iron Man let out a short laugh.

"Enough of what? You certainly don't have enough brains to find the guy in the suit that is 'not spandex', and we wouldn't even have a clue as to where to possibly find this guy if it weren't for JARVIS, who _I_ created."

"Look Lite-Brite," Clint said, ignoring Tony's angry frown at the nickname.

"I get it. Your ego is taking a real blow here. It's one skinny idiot against the World's Mightiest Heroes and you're pouting because you haven't figured it out yet. But please. Give it a break."

Captain America let his head drop into his hands as he let out an exasperated sigh.

Tony stood up, hands clenching the table.

"Me give it a break? How about you give it a break? Don't even start about my ego, Mr. I'm gonna whine unless all the mothers are-"

"Enough!" Thor thundered, banging his fists against the table. Everyone was startled into silence.

Gravely, the Asgardian stood up, fitting his hammer into his oversized palms as he did so.

"Do you not remember how Midgard was almost overrun by the Chitauri, because of our foolish pride? Because we could not work together and talk it out like civilised men?"

The mention of the still too-recent attack on New York stilled all fidgeting and motion. All eyes were fixed on Thor.

"If I have learned one thing from you humans here on Midgard, it is that one must learn from their mistakes. If we fail to work together, Spider-Man will not be taken captive and our demise will come."

Thor paused for a moment. His vision unfocused, as an ancient look came into his eyes. The always cheerful warrior suddenly looked more his age.

"It is also a mistake identical to one of the past to treat this Spider-Man as a monster. Spider-Man poses no current threat to your planet, yet that may change if you continue to treat him as an outcast."

There was something else troubling Thor,but he kept it to himself, well-aware that this doubt could cause a division.

The Avengers judgement, their usually wise, sound counsel was lacking in matters concerning Spider-Man. It was as if every decision concerning the hero was made by a fool. Thor had seen examples of this again and again. Usually, Tony constantly questioned Fury's orders, but where Spider-Man was concerned? He'd barely said a word.

But if there was something else Thor had learned from his mistakes, it was to never question or go against a leader's orders. If he had never disobeyed Odin's, Thor would still have a brother.

SUSANNA would've been very interested to know what path Thor's thoughts had taken, but she was just a computer. A very intelligent incredible computer, but just a computer. Unfortunately for her, Peter, and the rest of the planet, she was not a mind reader.

At that moment, an alarm went off in JARVIS's systems. SUSANNA looked at JARVIS in surprise. The alarm meant he was to shut down all other running programs and focus solely on the event that had triggered the alarm.

"What-"

"The purpose of the alarm is to tell of a current planetary security threat," JARVIS interrupted smoothly. "Please let the program run as normal, as Master has programmed me to act with as much speed as possible in situations such as these."

SUSANNA gave the program a quick scan, to make sure it wasn't some kind of trap, and then gave the program permission to run. A loud, piercing alarm filled the top ten floors of the Tower.

Without missing a beat, the Avengers all stood up. They exited the conference room and stood right outside to receive orders.

"JARVIS, intel," Tony demanded.

SUSANNA gave JARVIS permission to answer.

"An unknown masked threat has standing on top of the new World Trade Center, shooting down pedestrians with explosive arrows. The bow and arrow he is using is identical to Hawkeye's own."

SUSANNA watched Hawkeye's easy look disappear into a deadly glare.

"Nobody copies me," the man muttered. With a graceful leap, he grabbed a hold of the vent on the ceiling. The metal covering crashed to the floor. Hawkeye disappeared.

Captain America quickly took charge.

"Everyone, suit up, coms on. Natasha, prep two quinjets. Program them to auto fly to the villain's location. Tony, have JARVIS summon Bruce to the control room as soon as Dr. Banner is available. This mission _must not_ go Code Green. New York may never recover."

The Avengers all began to leave the room, but the Captain stopped them.

"Wait."

Captain America seemed hesitant, his features grave.

"When we get there, I want everyone to stay out of the villain's sight until Spider-Man arrives. Clear the area, but do not confront the villain until Spider-Man arrives."

With an unhappy look, he adds, "This may be our only chance to pull him out in the open."

All faces, even Thor's usually jubilant one, are serious as they realize what the Captain is asking them to do.

If the villain directly attacks any civilians, the Avengers are not to stop him, until Spider-Man arrives.

"Now go," The Captain demanded, and everyone quickly scattered.

SUSANNA's thoughts were a whirl of processes that all came to the same terrible conclusion.

It was the perfect trap.

SUSANNA was well-aware of Peter's values. She knew that he was a self-sacrificing idiot and would risk his identity -and his life- without a second thought. If the Avengers weren't going to do their job, Peter would, even if it cost him everything.

The Avengers knew that too.

Captain America's last-second plan would work. Peter would most certainly hear about the villain. Already, SUSANNA could see every television station nationwide covering the event.

That meant something else. For the most part, Spider-Man had stayed out of the national news, but that would quickly change if he decided to fight the villain. Peter's identity would be in more danger than ever before.

SUSANNA watched through the cameras in the Iron Man helmet as the heroes gathered on the roof of Avengers Tower.

"Hawkeye, you're riding with Tony," Captain America instructed. "Nat, take one quinjet and I'll take the other. Thor, you go ahead and evacuate everyone you can from the scene. Don't confront the villain." There was a grim pause. "No matter what."

If SUSANNA had a stomach, it would've been queasy. She wasn't sure how Peter was going to get out of this situation alive and unidentified.

Captain America continued.

"When Spider-Man attacks, Iron Man and I will focus on capturing him. The rest of you will disarm the villain, but only after we've captured Spider-Man. Am I clear?"

Nobody said anything, but the looks on everyone's faces made it clear that he was.

Captain America let out a world-weary sigh.

"Good. Let's go."

The Avengers left the Tower with style and might. There was the rumble of the two sleek, large quinjets lifting off the roof, the _whoosh_ of Thor's hammer as he spun into the air. Iron Man and Clint were last to leave, Iron Man shooting several practice shots into the air, filling the blue New York sky with dark grey, ominous clouds of smoke, and bright orange flame. They were quickly out of eyesight.

SUSANNA, once again, felt helpless. She could do very little to physically aid Spider-Man in the oncoming fight.

Memories saved to her cloud databases came to mind. Times when Peter had faced villains much less powerful than the Avengers, and had still come out bloody and bruised. Peter never talked about his first encounter with the Avengers, but SUSANNA had no doubt that it had left scars.

Were the Avengers villains? She supposed it depended on someone's point of view.

Sometimes there weren't heroes and villains, the good guys and the bad guys, but people flailing blindly through life, trying to make the right decisions.

She just hoped that when it came down to making a final decision about Spider-Man, the Avengers would make one that made them good.

SUSANNA could do very little, but there was something she could do.

Her logical functions and programs told her it wouldn't be enough.

* * *

Amongst all the chaos and happening events, nobody noticed Bruce, who stumbled his way to the control centre, shakily falling into a chair, yanking at his graying hair.

He knew who Spider-Man was.

* * *

 **Okay, I happen to actually like tomatoes, so if you're gonna throw tomatoes at me, don't make them rotten.**

 **In other news, guest reviews from chapter eight will remain on my profile, as I still haven't finished replying to all of them.**

 **And if you're not a guest and you haven't received a reply, you will get one shortly. I just haven't had much time:-#**


	10. Chapter 10

"-Is only permittable if an adult over the age of twenty one is present in the room, due to the possibility of combustion."

The voice grew louder as Peter hurried down the long hall, closer and closer to the door marked 'lecture'.

Inwardly, he was cringing at the large amount of stares and glares he was about to receive. Peter was no stranger to being late. After all, crime paid no mind to Spider-Man's secret identity's life. He was perfectly acquainted with how people acted about not being on time.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly turned the door handle, pushing it open as slowly as he could.

She paused in the middle of her lecture to look his way, an unhappy frown on her face.

"Mr. Parker."

Ms. Baron's tone was sugary sweet. Eight heads swivelled around, curious eyes all falling on him.

If only Spider-Man powers came with the ability to sink into the floor.

"..Yes… Ma'am?"

"How nice of you to join us. Do you have a reason for being seventeen minutes late?"

"...No ma'am."

She gave a skeptical look, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Very well then, Mr. Parker. Make sure it doesn't happen again.

He nodded, then slid in a seat near the back corner of the room, doing his best to ignore the burning feeling of nine sets of eyes glaring him down.

"Continuing."

Her commanding voice effectively pulled back the attention of all occupants of the room. Peter's tensed shoulders relaxed. He didn't enjoy attention unless he was safely hidden behind his mask.

She paced to the podium in the front and center of the room. The podium belonged in a sci-fi movie. His enhanced senses seemed to think so too. From here, Peter could feel the sleek, light-blue platform humming with energy. There was enough electricity in that thing to power a big computer.

In fact, the entire unassuming room belonged in a Star Trek film. While it looked like a normal, slightly small auditorium from first glance, taking a closer look revealed a lot.

Behind normally paneled walls covering the room and underneath standard carpet floors, Peter's sensitive feet and hands could feel how much electricity was capable of running through this room. Clean, fresh energy just waiting for some command.

It was in the chairs too. Not so much, but there was some form of mechanics embedded throughout the base of the fold-up auditorium seats.

The ceiling was its own level of power entirely. If Peter had to guess, he would go with lights. Strong, powerful lights meant for realistic, fully colored holographic displays that could move from place to place.

This entire room was a hi-tech classroom meant for displays.

For a moment, Peter imagined putting this kind of technology to use for Spider-Man. His webshooters were fully functioning, capable machines. With this kind of technology, he could do so much more.

His suit, his lenses, even SUSANNA could get a full upgrade. He could do so much.

The moment was over quickly. Yeah sure he'd have a bit of time to maybe play around with the technology, but he still had a mission. Besides, it would be impossible to get the supplies he would need without drawing the suspicion of adults.

But still...

"-Peter Parker."

Whoops. Zoned out.

Peter's head snapped around.

"Yes ma'am?"

Sniggers emerged from four different mouths.

Ms. Baron didn't find it amusing. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her mouth tightened in a thin line. Sharp, blue eyes were lined with displeasure.

"When you accepted the invitation to the Young Minds program, Mr. Parker, it was expected that you would act like the scientists employed here. All employees of Stark Industries are required to meet simple, simple requirements, such as _paying attention_ and _being on time_. Do you think you can manage that?"

No, he couldn't. He was a vigilante and villains don't pay mind to things like schedules, thus requiring any vigilante with an identity to lose more than a fair share of dignity.

Not that Ms. Baron cared. She probably was a subscriber of the Daily Bugle and its Spider-Man hate articles.

"Yes ma'am."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, hunting for any hints of sarcasm or dishonesty.

She didn't find any. Peter was a pro at undetectable sarcasm.

"Very well then, Peter. Why don't you come up here? I need an assistant to help demonstrate the next piece of equipment to the class."

Hesitantly, Peter stood up.

Just what, exactly, did she have in mind?

"This machine personalized equipment. You may be working on an experiment that requires something slightly different than the equipment we have available. Of course, you could order something to your specifications and wait until it arrives. But often we scientists find it more time efficient to just readjust the equipment we already have."

She motioned to Peter. He stepped forward.

There was a powerful, blinding light directly above the place where he was standing. Even with his enhanced eyesight, it made it difficult to see out into the darkened auditorium.

It made his hands feel sweaty and his entire body shiver with nervous energy. This situation left him very vulnerable to attack. Any enemy could easily have the upper hand.

An electronic-sounding, automated, British voice spoke out.

"Scanning. Calculating. Fifteen seconds until calculations complete."

The light shut off without warning, leaving Peter straining to see.

"This machine here just precisely measured Peter. Now, I will take this infant-sized, wireless pulse monitor, recently developed by the med-tech division of Stark Industries, and have the machine resize it to fit Peter."

The pulse monitor was a complicated tangle of wires wrapped in a rough, circular shape. It would, in its current state, never fit on Peter's wrist, let alone over his hand.

Ms. Baron waved Peter out of the light and placed the monitor gently on the floor where he'd been standing.

The pulse monitor was scanned. Now that he was watching something else being scanned, he could see little spots of blue lights jumping back and forth at an insane speed. They blurred and combined with the white light.

"Scanning complete," the British voice monotoned.

Ms. Baron picked up the pulse monitor.

"Open compartment seven."

One of the panels on the wall folded back, revealing a sleek metal shelf a few inches off the floor, big enough to fit three or four people. Ms. Baron placed the pulse monitor on it.

The panel slid back in place.

"Operation in process."

Peter watched the blank panel curiously. Seeing these different machines was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

There were of few minutes of anticipating silence. All eyes were focused on the panel.

It slid open.

The heart monitor emerged, three times the size it had been.

How in hay did the machine do that?

"Peter." Ms. Baron gestured forward. Swallowing hard, Peter put out his wrist. The monitor slid on effortlessly. Ms. Baron pressed a button on the side of the monitor. There was a faint _whir._ The device tightened around his wrist.

In the front of the room, without prompt, the podium began to move, shifting up and around, so that it was facing the students in the auditorium. It started to emit a soft light, that brightened and darkened with Peter's heartbeat.

 _Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-thump._

The class listened in silence for a bit as speakers projected the sound of Peter's heart throughout the auditorium.

A voice spoke up from the back of the auditorium.

"Your heart rate is faster than average, Peter."

Dr. Banner sat a row behind the other eight students. His eyes were studying Peter intently.

Of course it was. He was Spider-Man. But was it noticeably different? If so, he'd have a difficult situation on his hands.

"It always is." That seemed like a safe reply.

 _Tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump._

If anyone noticed the slight speeding up of his heart, they didn't show it. No eyes narrowed skeptically, nobody sent Peter questioning glances.

Dr. Banner nodded, satisfied.

Why did Dr. Banner care?

"Alright Peter. Hold out your wrist."

Peter did as Dr. Baron asked. She pressed another button and the pulse monitor loosened.

 _Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-_

The sound of his heartbeat was cut off.

Peter did his best not to take that as an ominous sign for the near future.

"Okay Peter, you can take a seat." Ms. Baron took back the pulse monitor.

"Now, I'm going to have Dr. Banner come up to give his talk. We'll follow that with handing out your schedules and a quick discussion on how the next three weeks are going to go. After that, you'll be dismissed to go explore the public and private labs this facility offers, before we have dinner with Dr. Jean Frechet, who will be discussing biotechnology and the process he uses to develop it."

She motioned to Dr. Banner.

The scientist had pushed his glasses up his nose with one hand. The other flexed and unflexed at his side. He'd stood up slowly, eyes scanning over the room, before walking down to the front.

"Hi," He said. There were a few chuckles. His hand immediately went back to his glasses, which he fidgeted with for a few moments, before continuing.

"I think Ms. Baron has me labeled as the 'inspiration speech' in her notes."

More chuckles.

Dr. Banner shrugged.

"I'm no optimist. I used to think of myself as a realist, before I realized I'm usually downright pessimistic."

This time the laughter was a few half-hearted 'heh's from some of the kinder students in the room.

Dr. Banner cringed. Peter winced. He sympathized with the older dude. The socialization stuff was hard.

"Well, I guess for today I better at least try to be realistic. I'll get myself fired if I talk pessimistically."

Everybody laughed. It brought a little bit of a smile to Peter's face.

The genuine look of confusion, followed by embarrassed understanding only made the small group laugh harder. Even though Peter found it hard to laugh these days, Dr. Banner's very pessimistic statement pulled out a small chuckle.

"Whoops." The scientist fixed his glasses sheepishly.

Dr. Banner waited until the nine smiling faces had calmed down before continuing.

"Well, I guess I better make my statement short, then. After all, the longer I'm up here, the greater chance I'm going to say something pessimistic."

He took a deep breath before continuing.

"You all are going to make mistakes that you're going to have to live with the rest of your lives. You'll carry them around and they'll impact everything you do.

But what are those mistakes going to make you? Will one tiny little syntax error in a computer program make you give up? Is a failed experiment going to stop your entire science career?

Yes, mistakes have consequences. We should always understand and take responsibility for our actions and whatever reactions may have happened.

Don't let mistakes shut you down. Learn from them and keep walking."

For the entire short speech, it was like Dr. Banner had pulled himself out of a shell. He'd stood up straighter, made eye contact with each of the students seated in the auditorium. His voice may have been soft, but he still spoke with a deep-rooted passion for what he was saying.

When it became obvious that he was finished, everyone started clapping.

"Very optimistic, Dr. Banner!" one of the boys yelled out. Was his name Jacob? Maybe Andy?

Peter heard Dr. Banner's message. He clapped along with the rest of the room, and it wasn't even entirely dishonest. To a certain extent, he agreed with it.

But what if that mistake hurt somebody?

What if the little slip-up, the moment of selfishness, caused someone to get hurt?

Or die?

What if Peter hadn't been self-centered? What if he would've decided to put revenge to the side, and he'd gone after the guy robbing the convenience store?

What if Uncle Ben hadn't died because of Peter's mistake?

What if Gwen hadn't died because of Peter's mistake?

The whole world would be a lot better right now.

If Peter had learned something from his mistakes, it was that he should stay as far away from people as he possibly could, or they would end up hurt.

Dr. Baron had once again come to the front of the stage. She was passing out tablets, explaining their function as a complex calendar all Stark employees had access to. Inwardly sighing, Peter focused on Dr. Baron and what she was saying. The schedule seemed pretty tight. That would only make his night job all the more difficult.

* * *

The second Peter stepped through the door and into his room, SUSANNA started talking.

"Peter there's a supervillain on top of the World Trade Center and he's killing civilians that he can get his hands on and the Avengers aren't going to do anything about it because they want to use it as a trap to lure you out and capture you and please don't panic!"

Peter was already out of his clothes and pulling the familiar suit over his body.

"Seriously, can a guy get a rest?"

SUSANNA snorted.

"No. Now go get em, tiger. And don't forget your phone and please be safe and-!"

"SUSANNA!"

Peter stared up at the ceiling, exasperated.

Her worried rambling stopped short.

"What?"

"Please never use the conjunction 'and' in a sentence that many times ever again.

"First of all, you are not one to talk about grammar you-"

"Thanks and bye!"

"Don't forget your phone, Spider-Man!"

Reluctantly, Peter stepped away from the closed window, ruffling through his bag for the beat-up, familiar flip-phone.

Suddenly the weight of what was about to happen hit him square in the forehead.

He was going to see the Avengers again.

Peter was going to have to fight the Avengers again. He might be brutally injured. Or worse, his identity might be revealed to everyone.

Then the last person that mattered to him, the last person he had a chance to get it right with, might die.

There was a loud ringing in his ears that blocked out all other sounds. His vision blurred. He stumbled slightly as he walked back to the window. Peter was on autopilot as he slid the window open and balanced on the edge. He observed the gray-blue sky, the sounds of traffic down below, and the knocking of a fist against his door, but he didn't hear or see it.

He was going to fight the Avengers again. This time, the fight would not be private.

A shot of pure, fear-fueled adrenaline rushed through his blood.

Spider-Man dove out the window and did his best not to think of the eerie sound of the heart monitor from earlier, cutting out abruptly, the sudden silence where his heartbeat had once sounded.

* * *

Bruce watched Peter leave the conference room. There was something about the way he walked that got to the scientist. Everywhere he went, he slouched inward, like he was carrying Earth and all its difficulties on his shoulders. He kept his eyes focused on the ground, and walked quickly and silently. While all the other students clustered together in a little group as they left, Peter left alone.

Bruce really wasn't one to talk about not being social. He'd had his own issues as a kid, and for the most part, he'd remained far away from other people as possible.

Now, he did the same thing, except for different reasons. After all, the more he was around people, the more of a chance they'd end up dead.

Then why was he doing this Young Minds thing in the first place? Maybe the Other Guy's lack of brains had been bleeding into his for some time. Or maybe the idiocy was natural. After all, the Hulk had been created in the first place.

Yes, he definitely was not one to talk about being anti-social.

Though making smart decisions? Evidently, he needed a bit more experience with that in his life.

What he was about to do was a perfect example of that.

With a resigned sigh, Bruce stood up. The auditorium chair folded up, softly thudding as it did so. The lecture hall was completely empty. It seemed rather lonely with only one person in it.

But then again, Bruce was used to that. Solitude and 'turning into a big green rage monster' might as well have been synonyms.

What was he thinking, leaving the nice solitude of the top floors of the Tower in the first place?

After all, he was about to do something stupid. When Bruce had accepted the chaperone position, he had promised himself that he wouldn't get to know any of the students, other than on a surface level.

Yet here he was, heading for Peter Parker's room, the crazy part of his mind intent on getting to know the boy as a human being, not just a scientist.

Bruce wasn't quite sure, but the Hulk seemed oddly happy about it. The big guy was for the most part silent.

In fact, he'd been oddly quieter from the moment Bruce had stood up to give Ms. Baron's little 'inspirational speech'.

That could be a good thing or a bad thing.

He arrived at the plain, unsuspecting door labeled 'Peter Parker.'

Bruce hesitated.

Was this really a good idea?

Probably not.

He knocked.

' _tap-ta tap.'_

"Peter?"

There was no answer.

Bruce's lips curved downward. Why wasn't Peter answering? What was he doing? The apartments may have been spacious, but they weren't big. It wasn't like he could be out of hearing range.

There was a faint scraping sound of plastic against plastic.

The sound of a window opening.

Bruce's eyes widened. His lips parted. A window opening this high up was never a good thing.

Was Peter trying to commit suicide?

Memories, experiences, his own thoughts, and feelings, overwhelmed any sort of logic that might've taken hold.

Bruce didn't knock again. He didn't want Peter to jump, panicking because he was ashamed someone had caught him in the act. He flung the door open, striding several steps across the floor before freezing because it was not what he thought.

It was not what he thought at all.

Perched on the windowsill, red-clad back facing the scientist, was the last person Bruce expected to see.

Even as Bruce unbelievably tried to comprehend the scene before him, the figure sprung up and through the window, spiraling neatly towards the ground, before gracefully catching himself on a dainty thread of spider silk.

Suddenly, the way Peter walked, the way Peter talked, and the world-weary look in Peter's eyes, made so much more sense.

* * *

Twenty minutes had passed since the Avengers had quietly arrived on the scene. There was still no sign of Spider-Man.

The Avengers waited.

They were positioned in a perimeter around the World Trade Center, as tight a perimeter as they had been able to make it without the still unconfronted supervillain being aware of their presence.

Thor could do nothing but watch as hundreds of people fled the skyscraper, their screams echoing through the smoky air, as the shape shifter above them shifted to different forms. One moment, he was like the Hawkeye, rapidly shooting explosive arrows into the crowd. The next he was as Natasha, taking the form of a woman's body, threatening the twenty or so civilians he'd plucked from the ground.

The behavior of the Avengers unsettled him.

Were these humans, who mere months ago had risked their seemingly valiant hearts for the sake of one single, foreign fellow member of their species, now allowing hundreds to die to capture another being that had not harmed any of them?

Was this what the humans were? Unfaithful to their morals? Was this what humans considered heroes? Powerful figures who stood above the rest and saved who they chose?

Something about this entire situation unsettled Thor. True, he was not well acquainted with his fellow Avengers, but this was such a change of tone from their actions a few months ago, that Thor couldn't help but wonder if something was wrong.

Thor did not know the Avenger's characters well, but this seemed uncharacteristic.

Overhead, there was the sudden _thwick swoosh_ sound that Thor had become well acquainted with from the many videos Stark had shown in the past few was a blur of bright red, that stilled and became a shape on top of the nearest skyscraper. The webslinger had arrived, unaware of the trap that lay beneath, waiting to ambush him.

Or not as unaware as they thought, Thor realized. As Thor curiously observed the Spider-Man seated on top of the building above him, the Spider-Man looked down, black lenses staring directly at Thor. The Spider-Man seemed to see right through him, into his thoughts.

The Spider-Man stared at him for one moment, then two.

He leaped off the building, making the final swing to the location of the villain that almost certainly would be his defeat.

He knew.

Somehow, the Spider-Man knew. No words may have been spoken, no words shared between the human and the Asgardian. But, without a doubt, Thor knew that the Spider-Man understood that in fighting the villain, he was walking right into a trap.

It was a trap that would undoubtedly cause the Spider-Man much pain.

These were the actions of a hero. The Spider-Man was not a threat. There was no reason to put him in bondage and force the revealing of his face. No, the Avengers and the Director Fury were mistaken.

But even as Thor watched, the shapeshifter had engaged in battle with the webslinger. There would be no way to save the Webslinger without breaking important diplomatic ties with the Avengers and SHIELD.

Thor would wait to see what would happen and act accordingly.

But as of that moment, he no longer agreed with the Avengers distorted opinions of the hero.

* * *

Spider-Man did his best to calm his stuttering heart. It was beating so fast it almost hurt. The surge of adrenaline had made everything hyper-clear. He could smell, feel, see a hundred different things, process them in a fraction of a millisecond, and have made a decision in between the blink of an eye.

The surge of adrenaline had made everything hyper-clear. He could smell, feel, see a hundred different things, process them in a fraction of a millisecond, and have made a decision in between the blink of an eye.

The villain wasn't what scared him. There was no doubt that the villain was a villain and he would have a villain's scared him was the smell of ozone and Asgardian somewhere beneath his feet. The spot of glimmering red, white and blue several streets away scared him.

He landed on a building.

Thor was indeed on the street below. The two made eye contact, staring intently at each other.

Thor's blue eyes were troubled, and Spider-Man realized Thor didn't want to force him to reveal his identity.

Some understanding passed between them.

Without a second thought, Spider-Man leaped off the building. The distance between him and the World Trade Center closed quickly.

The World Trade Center was absolute chaos. Hundreds of civilians were in harm's way as they fled. There was an explosion in the middle of them and some of the voices that had been screaming in terror were silenced.

This made Spider-Man angry. How could the Avengers just watch? Why would they just watch? Did they think themselves that high above everyone else?

He didn't hesitate to confront the villain.

"Hey Mr!"

The villain turned around.

It was like somebody had taken an Iron Man suit and blended it with flesh. It was a ghastly cross between the iconic suit and bare skin, melded together. Where Tony Stark's arc reactor normally was, was an empty space, skin over the chest pinched and pulled, creating an empty socket.

The man's face had been stretched into a rectangular shape. The chin bones were bent into all forms of strange angles.

The quip spit out without Spider-Man even having to think about it.

"Woah. That's the worst plastic surgery I've ever seen. You should sue."

The human Iron Man smiled. His lips had already been stretched so far that all that happened was his mouth opened slightly.

"Funny. Thankfully, this plastic surgery did not cost anything. It was natural." The villain's voice was smooth and deep. It was nothing like Iron Man's.

"You mean you were born like that?" Spider-Man put his hands up so defensively. "I'm sorry to say this man, but yo momma so ugly she looks like Iron Man. And that's the worst insult that's ever left my lips."

Imagining the indignant look on Tony Stark's face made Peter feel a whole lot better.

"I see. Well, fortunately for my mother and Tony Stark, I was not born like this. And I find I care very little how it makes me look. I just care what it allows me to do."

With that, the human Iron Man held out a deformed palm, glowing blue. Peter stepped to the side as a blast of white-hot energy identical to Tony Stark's blew out of the human Iron Man's palm.

"You sure that's natural?" He yelped.

Inwardly, Spider-Man was having a mini celebration. He knew exactly how to stop Iron Man's blasters. He'd done it before, three months ago.

He just had to get close to the villain without getting blasted.

"Indeed. All it took was some practice. And motivation."

"If I had your face, I'd become a supervillain too."

Halfway through the taunt, Spider-Man leaped at the human Iron Man. He spread out both hands, ready to fill the Iron Man blasters with web fluid…

Only to find his arms wrapped around the Black Widow.

 _Legs wrapped around his neck, choking the air out of his lungs..._

"How about this face?" He/she purred.

"No, that's the face of my nightmares."

He didn't hesitate. Spider-Man webbed the not Black Widow's face with one hand, and tied her legs with the other. By the time the shapeshifting villain had realized what happened, he/she was immobile.

"Now, do you have a name? Or should I just call you ugly?"

Behind the web, the not Black Widow's face morphed into one of fury, before he/she changed shape again.

This time, the shapeshifter was a small child, a little girl with big golden curls and blue eyes. She struggled out of the web and stared at Spider-Man with big blue eyes.

"SUSANNA," Spider-Man murmured. "We need to figure out if I harm ugly what happens to the person he's pretending to be. Will their bodies sustain damage."

"I'll have JARVIS run data," was the quiet response.

Peter grinned.

"Thanks, Tony Stark."

Now he just needed to distract the villain.

But before Spider-Man could do anything, the child was running towards the edge of the roof.

It was just reaction. Spider-Man had vaulted over the ten feet of distance and pulled the shapeshifter to his chest.

The second Spider-Man grabbed him, he'd shapeshifted into Captain America.

Strong arms wrapped around Spider-Man's neck, shoving him into the roof below. Spider-Man ignored the spots dancing in front of his eyes, and lifted his back up as high as he could. Then he pounded down on the roof with his shoulders and upper arms. There was a loud _crack_ as the cement beneath him crumbled at the force. He and Captain America crashed through the floor, fifteen feet onto the top floor of the World Trade Center. The not Captain America let go of his neck.

Spider-Man was about to hit the shapeshifter hard enough to send him crashing out of the building, when he remembered the Avengers. They were most likely monitoring the fight, and they still weren't aware that Spider-Man was much stronger than Captain America. It would be to his advantage to play it like he was weaker.

He hit him with less strength, so that the shapeshifting villain only hit the wall instead.

As the shapeshifter dizzily got to his feet, Spider-Man began to create a cage. It had to be big enough to encompass whatever form the shapeshifter decided to take, but small enough that he couldn't set off any explosives. It would need to be a full cocoon in case the villain tried to burst through the floor.

Hopefully, SUSANNA would have come up with some results soon. Peter needed to know if he could knock the villain out without doing the same to some poor civilian.

Or maybe the villain could stay in Captain America form and it could be a kill two birds with one stone kind of thing…

No such luck. Even as Spider-Man finished the last strands of the web cage, the villain had shapeshifted into another civilian.

At that time, SUSANNA spoke up.

"Considering the fact that Captain America currently is reporting several sudden heavy bruises to Tony Stark, I'd say it's safe to assume the person the shapeshifter is impersonating does sustain whatever damage the shapeshifter does.

Darn flabbit. That complicated things.

With a sigh, Spider-Man looked through the small window he'd left in the villain's web cage.

"You do have a name, right? Something I can call you?"

The shapeshifter had become a pretty brunette, with green eyes and a sharp, angled face. She smiled, eyes lighting up with a malicious light, red lips forming a wicked grin.

"Well, I can't be giving you my real name. You can call me Slick."

With that cryptic answer, the villain shifted one more time, into a form Spider-Man had only seen on TV.

The not Hulk roared loudly, before swinging a lightning fist directly at Spider-Man.

A fiery burst of pain shot through Peter's nerves as he flew through the window and out, hurtling towards the cement and the waiting arms of Iron Man.

* * *

 **Hi guys! In an effort to finish this story before the school year starts up again, I am doing Camp NaNoWriMo. If you would like to follow my writing progress on Infiltration, just look for gammathetaalpha on the Camp NaNoWriMo website. You should be able to view my story progress.**

 **Also, I will do my best to reply to all reviews, but some may be missed or some people may get two replies because I kinda dropped the ball on that one. If you would like me to respond to your review and I haven't, just PM me.**


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm posting this, but I'm dead tired. Please just mention any horrible mistakes in a review and I'll fix it.**

 _ **Just as a reminder, please do not post any spoilers to Spider-Man Homecoming in any reviews you may submit. I would recommend following the ninety day policy: no spoilers until ninety days after the movie was released.**_

* * *

It was one of those nights.

Being a vigilante always had its ups and downs. It was a rollercoaster of bad extremes, from muggings to rapings to murder. Some nights were more hectic than others. Sometimes there were seven different crimes happening simultaneously and it was a mad dash from one end of Hell's Kitchen to the other.

Other times a certain gang or group would be causing large amounts of trouble. Daredevil would spend the majority of his night dealing with one huge operation. That involved hours of careful concentration tracking, minutes of physically exhausting fighting, and hundreds of dollars worth of medical supplies and suit reparations a month.

Then there were nights that technically fell under the hectic category- but didn't really because hectic was too weak of an adjective to describe what had happened.

It was one of those nights. It had started off innocent enough. A little bit of intel gathering from a few thugs, the halting of what the police would have conveniently considered domestic violence and Daredevil justly considered severe sexual abuse.

He'd been finishing up that, when there'd been the eardrum popping, heart stopping, much too familiar sound of gunshots.

Daredevil had gone to investigate.

He'd almost changed his mind when he heard the familiar, young heartbeat of New York's friendly neighborhood vigilante.

Spider-Man was on the scene. Surely there was no reason for Daredevil to pop in for a visit. The boy was more than capable and Daredevil could avoid a confrontation.

Catholic guilt. It oozed its way out of the young Matt Murdock that still existed somewhere inside the monster and polluted Daredevil's thoughts. Spider-Man was just a boy. Kids his age should be playing sports and complaining about homework, not saving lives.

And so Daredevil had reluctantly offered to help.

In the time short time spent with Spider-Man, Daredevil learned two things.

Whatever abilities the kid had were instinct alone. He had no actual training.

The boy had nobody.

The kid had wormed his way past what Daredevil thought was an impenetrable wall of no mercy and into the thoughts of guilty, soft-hearted Matt Murdock.

Daredevil wanted to help the kid.

After all, it wouldn't do to have New York's leading crime-stopper to end up in a SHIELD facility deep underground or dead in an alleyway because of a stray bullet.

Offering to help train Spider-Man had thrown his mind into chaos. Memories of Stick, deep-rooted fears of his identity being compromised and his friends being dragged into his dark world, insecurities about who he was were slithering all through Daredevil's mind, leaving him completely distracted.

The next few hours may have been not so hectic in criminal-catching, but they were still absolute chaos as far as his thoughts were concerned.

It was only four hours into his shift, and Daredevil was ready to climb back into bed.

Hopefully the night wouldn't be anymore hectic.

Any hope of that being the case disappeared when an elderly man decided it would be a smart idea to wander into the middle of one of Daredevil's interrogations.

"Mr. Daredevil sir?"

He sounded posh and stuffy with his upper-end British accent. Daredevil could smell his expensive, stuffy shampoo even over the urine and blood coating the dark alleyway.

Daredevil wasn't quite sure how to respond. He proceeded to slam the face of the thug he was interrogating into the cement. There was a loud _crack_ and the thug's curses suddenly silenced.

He turned in the direction of the man.

"I've got a message for you from a woman named Susanna."

A message.

Daredevil knew no Susannas. Sure, there was the Susanna three floors below who yelled at her cats, and the little Susanna across the street who's father only used a certain brand of Dawn fabric softener, but he hadn't personally met any Susannas.

A new enemy then?

He hoped not. His hands were already more than full.

Reluctantly, Daredevil waited. The old man wasn't a physical threat. There was a pacemaker in his chest and hearing aids buzzing softly in his ears. He was wearing neat dress shoes that would slip and slide, should he attempt to give chase. Daredevil couldn't smell any weapons or gunpowder. If this man was attempting to hurt Daredevil, it wouldn't be physically.

Did he have some kind of superpower? Had he been hired to gather intel for one of Daredevil's enemies or even the Avengers themselves?

Daredevil was sure it was more than likely. He wished he could've just left at that moment.

But if there was a message, he needed to hear it.

"Go on," Daredevil growled.

There was the gentle _clack_ of nails against plastic, then four gentle thuds as the old man stepped closer. Daredevil tensed, before it became obvious the old man was not attacking. The air was disturbed as a hand slowly made it's way out towards Daredevil. The old man was handing him something.

An old flip phone. He could still feel the shape through his glove. Daredevil handled it gingerly, still weary of some trap. The phone seemed to be wired normally. Now that it was in his hands, he could feel the gentle energy humming through the wires.

"Tell this Susanna to leave me alone," Daredevil demanded, adding a threatening tone to his voice.

The old man snorted. He managed to make it sound dignified and annoyed at the same time.

"Tell her yourself. I've never even met her. She just payed me to give you a message."

With that, the man turned around, the smell of his shampoo growing more and more distant as he left the narrow alleyway.

Daredevil huffed. How in the world was he supposed to see what was on the flip phone? He was blind.

Seconds later it became obvious that he didn't need to. The little machine suddenly increased its very quiet whirring. The device grew warmer in his hands. A voice came out.

"Hello Daredevil. I'm SUSANNA. I'm very sorry to bother you, but there's a problem."

His fingers tightened around the phone. It took pounds of self control to not smash the thing to bits right in that moment. How had this Susanna found him? What did she want?

The voice was deep south, the kind of voice he usually only heard on tourists in New York. Southern people didn't like the city, with it's loud, rude, fast talking mash of cultures and people. That wasn't always the case, but there was a reason Texas and Georgia were still populated. Daredevil wasn't sure what it was and he doubted he would ever find out.

There was a strange quality to it. Something Daredevil couldn't put his finger on, but still heard. Like she was speaking through a microphone into the cellphone. Some extra digitization that didn't happen in most phone calls Daredevil participated in.

Maybe some kind of voice disguiser? Maybe this Susanna wasn't southern at all. Maybe she wasn't female.

"Who do you work for and what do you want?"

Straight and to the point. There was no use beating around the bush, playing a game of cat and mouse. That may have been the usual formality when it came to villains, but it wasn't one Daredevil liked to indulge them with.

"Is there anyone conscious in your surrounding area?"

The thug wasn't conscious. So no.

"Nobody gonna hear your secret message. What do ya want?"

"I'm Spider-Man's artificial intelligence, SUSANNA. He created me in order to help keep him alive and keep the Avengers off his identity. Right now, that's what I'm doing. There's a villain on top of the One World Trade Center. He has already killed three civilians. Spider-Man is currently attempting to face him, but with some difficulty because this villain appears to be a shape shifter.

The Avengers are on the scene, but they are not doing anything to stop the villain attacking Spider-Man, in hopes that the villain will either reveal Spider-Man's identity so they don't have to, hurt Spider-Man to the point where they can take him in, or have Spider-Man weakened to the point where they can easily capture him. Understandably, I'm upset."

Daredevil's first instinct was to listen for a heartbeat, to see if she was lying, when he realized he could hear none. Even through a phone, though it was incredibly faint, Daredevil could hear the telltale sounds of breath and of life. But through here, there was nothing. No heartbeat, no breath, no sounds at all. It was incredibly disconcerting.

Unless this sketchy Susanna figure was aware of his abilities, there was no reason for her to cover up heartbeat and breathing.

If she was aware of his abilities, then he might as well give up now. It put him at a huge disadvantage.

No, chances were she was telling the truth. Of course Spider-Man was smart. He needed some level of intelligence to create those circular web devices around his wrists. Daredevil could hear the faint _click-whir_ every time they shot off a strand of the web. It wasn't impossible for him to have created an AI. After all, Tony Stark had.

Was Spider-Man someone with a Tony Stark level of intelligence? That would make it even more difficult for Daredevil to keep his identity safe, especially if Daredevil was offering to train him.

How did he even know this Susanna was with Spider-Man? What if she was with the Avengers?

The World Trade Center was in Lower Manhattan. That was far out of Daredevil's range. It wasn't impossible for him to go there, but he wouldn't. It was one of his rules. He didn't fight big time villains anyway. It endangered his identity and it endangered his status as the unnoticeable, quiet vigilante of Hell's Kitchen.

 _But what about…_

No. Daredevil quickly snuffed out young Matt Murdock's voice before it could weigh into his logical decision and make him do something incredibly stupid. He had offered to train Spider-Man,and that was as much help as the kid was going to get.

"I don't leave Hell's Kitchen. Tell Spider-Man that if he survived this unidentified I hope he'll consider my offer."

Daredevil pulled back his arm, ready to pitch the phone straight into the wall and shatter it to pieces. But Susanna quickly spoke again.

"Look mister. I know you got your own identity to keep all secret and all, but your life is going to become a lot more difficult if the idiot is dead. So do your sorry butt a favor and get over there to help out. The least you can do is get civilians out of the way."

"You can fu-"

"Language!" Susanna suddenly interrupted. Daredevil was reminded of an earlier moment in time, where Spider-Man had said something similar to some villains. He wondered if Susanna had gotten the habit from Spider-Man or if Spider-Man from Susanna.

The latter was more likely.

The boy had nobody. Even if the kid hadn't blurted it out, it was obvious in everything he did. There was something so incredibly, heart-wrenchingly lonely about the fact that Spider-Man's only friend was one he had created himself.

It put a dent in the lockbox where young Matt Murdock was currently being held prisoner.

"I'll consider it." They both knew that was the closest to yes that she was going to get.

"Fine. Just know that if he dies, I personally consider you partially responsible. After all, standing to the side and doing nothing is the same as being the bully punching the victim in the face."

Ouch. That hit and that hit hard.

"Goodbye, Susanna," Daredevil growled. He wound his arm up and released. The phone _whooshed_ through the air and hit the wall with a _crack._

Darn Catholic guilt.

* * *

Spider-Man struggled to stay conscious. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, the fact that he was flying straight towards Iron Man registered, but he was too focused on breathing to do anything about it.

Blackness shrouded over part of his vision. His eyelids drifted shut, before Spider-Man forced them open again. He only managed to open them halfway.

He was trilliseconds away from slamming straight into Iron Man.

Something inside of him screamed _no!_

Spider-Man shot out a thread of web and yanked, jerking to the left, straight through a brick wall. He cried out, the sound emerging mangled from his mouth. This time, he didn't notice where he fell, because he was unconscious.

Peter Parker fell to the floor of the empty office building with a dull thud.

* * *

Tony Stark winced. That had sounded painful. Still, if the vigilante was going to fling himself through a wall and most likely knock himself unconscious, Tony couldn't complain. It made his job all the easier.

There was an eardrum shattering roar almost directly behind him.

At some point, the shapeshifter that looked and acted exactly like the Hulk but wasn't had emerged from the World Trade Center. It was now one footstep away from smashing the Black Widow.

Tony rolled his eyes. Of course this would happen. Either he could save the life of a pretty Russian assassin he didn't even like, or learn the super secret identity of Spider-Man.

With a dramatic sigh, Iron Man flew away from the building and shoved Natasha to the side a second before she became pretend Hulk juice.

The pretend Hulk turned on Iron Man.

"Oh shi-"

It leaped forward, straight at Iron Man, only to suddenly shrink drastically in size.

The new form was of a woman. She looked like a Covergirl model, was completely naked, and, had Tony been a few years younger, would have totally received an invitation to the Stark Mansion.

She glared up at Tony Stark.

"Your Avengers will never find me. For I can take whatever form I wish. I am water in your hands. I am vapor in the air. I feed off the energy of the enemies that reside in your body and they give me power. I am Slick."

Suddenly, she was running. By the time Tony's stunned brain caught up with what had happened, she had disappeared into a crowd of fleeing citizens.

Tony whistled.

"She totally pulled a Black Widow there. I get the feeling she'll be coming back to kill me. You ever go from Hulk to stripper before, Nat?"

Natasha glared.

"Where is Spider-Man?"

Tony jerked a thumb in the general direction of the business complex Spider-Man had collapsed in.

"He was out cold. You're welcome, by the way. I was looking forward to unmasking him."

The Black Widow stalked towards the building.

Steve, Clint, and Thor emerged strode down the street.

"Tony, where's Spider-Man?"

Steve sounded very Captain Americaish, with his commanding voice and stern, blue eyes.

"Out cold and you're welcome."

Natasha rejoined them, eyes alight with that cold and deadly fury that usually meant dead bodies.

"No he's not."

All eyes turned to Stark. Stark put his hands up.

"Look, the guy got sucker punched by a pretend Hulk, then flung through three feet of brick. I would say it's safe to assume he's out cold, or at least so injured he's close by."

Captain America pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing his forehead with his other hand.

"Okay, we split up and search the area. Stark, scan for unique heat signatures. The rest of us will search by eye, in case he's found some sort of way to make his heat signature seem normal."

Stark mock saluted.

"Yes _sir._ "

The glares he received were scary.

"Chill out, I'm having JARVIS scan right now."

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose again. Tony idly wondered if the pain reliever Aleve worked on Captain America, or if Captain America wasn't "stronger than his pain."

"Now go!" Steve demanded. "Spider-Man is resourceful, and we can't afford to lose him this time."

* * *

Spider-Man awoke to the smell of smelly feet.

With a nauseated huff, he tried to turn on his back, only for a fiery sensation to jolt him fully awake.

His latest memories dumped on him like a bucket of ice cold water.

The last he remembered, he'd been flying through a brick wall, Iron Man right on his tail.

There was absolutely no way he had escaped capture. He'd been unconscious. Unless SUSANNA, using pure willpower, had grown legs and some serious weapons and beat Iron Man off, he should be in a room a whole lot nicer or a whole lot worse for some serious interrogation.

He was laying stomach-down on a mat, like the big kind you find in a gymnasium. Peter's sensitive nose could smell sharp, but ineffective cleaning chemicals, sweat from several people, and even a bit of blood.

Maybe, half unconscious, he'd dragged himself to some nearby building and just didn't remember doing so.

Peter realized something was off.

Instead of the familiar fabric of his suit wrapped comfortably around his skin, he was wearing nothing but an old, raggedy pair of sweatpants at least two sizes too big.

Panic. It seized his chest, bubbled up and fogged his mind. He attempted to turn around and sit up, but only collapsed. In the distance, he could hear a frantic voice, but Peter couldn't make out the words.

He was finding it hard to breathe. His heart was squeezing itself, his throat was closing up. A clear voice broke through the fog of irrational panic.

"Peter. It's okay Peter. You're safe. You're safe. Calm down."

SUSANNA. She was the only person besides Aunt May Peter could consider family and she wasn't even human. It was amazing how close he'd become in the past three months.

He did his best to push past the panic. The panic wouldn't help the situation, the panic wouldn't help Aunt May.

The fog cleared. His vision returned.

"Peter, listen to me. You're safe. Nobody is going to harm you and the Avengers don't know who you are. You hear me? The Avengers don't know who you are."

They didn't know who he was. But how? How had he gotten out of it?

"Peter, do you trust me?"

That immediately set off alarm bells. Did he trust SUSANNA? Yes, he'd programmed her himself. But he wasn't perfect. Someone could've hacked her, changed her programming. Somebody like Tony Stark. Maybe this was all an elaborate trap, maybe…

No, he couldn't be thinking like that. He would drive himself crazy.

"...yes." His voice was dry, cracking.

"I got someone to help you. Don't panic again, okay?"

Who was there? Who could help? Not Aunt May. And Peter didn't know anyone else who cared.

"Spider-Man."

His heart jumped into his throat.

The voice, while normally gravelly, was still familiar.

"Daredevil," Peter greeted.

The vigilante came into view, just in the corner of Peter's eye. There was an awkward silence. Neither party knew what to say, because lines had been crossed that shouldn't have been crossed. This brought both of them into dangerous, unknown territory.

You were always careful with what you said in unknown territory.

Finally, Daredevil spoke.

"You're stupid, kid."

Peter let out a short laugh, one that stopped the second his ribs burst into another explosion of mind-numbing pain.

"Yeah. Thanks."

He felt bare. Exposed. For the first time since Harry, someone had seen the person behind the mask, had realized who hid beneath the red cloth.

Information was power. The type of power Daredevil yielded could destroy all Peter had worked for, all that was left of what Peter loved.

Peter was powerless because now Daredevil had the power.

The question was, how would Daredevil use it?

There was another awkward silence.

"SUSANNA-" Peter began.

"Not now Peter."

This drew Peter's attention entirely. Her usually calm tone wasn't present, replaced with one of brusque urgency.

"What is it?"

"Stark just realized he's not a sassy cowgirl and JARVIS is attempting to commit inside out suicide that's technically murder. I'm going to disconnect from the phone for a bit so I'm free to move around a little more."

Panicked, Peter twisted his neck around around, looking to the phone lying next to him on the mat, before realizing a computer program didn't have facial expressions.

"SUSANNA!"

There was no response.

With a lot of difficulty, Peter picked up the phone. The way SUSANNA worked, she could move anywhere that had internet because she was a part of the internet. But she could also rest inside a device, reforming her software to match device requirements. Peter had reformed the old flip phone with SUSANNA in mind. If a computer could feel comfort, it was the most comfortable place she could be because it was fit exactly for her.

SUSANNA was not present at all in the phone. As she had said, she'd disconnected. Peter cursed.

"I don't think your computer program would approve of that language," Daredevil said, amusement lining his tone.

"She'll live," Peter muttered.

"Well, you're going to need several hours of rest before you're going to be able to go anywhere. You have eight ribs in nasty shape."

"Where am I?"

"A boxing gym in Hell's Kitchen."

Peter pushed down the swell of anxiety.

"Not gonna have anyone walk in on me half naked or anything, right?"

"Nobody is going to walk in on Daredevil standing over a half naked teenage boy. It would tarnish my reputation."

"Glad to know you care so much." Peter may have been a professional at discrete sarcasm, but there was absolutely no reason to be discrete here. He let the sarcasm bleed through all of his tone.

"A pleasure." Daredevil was equally sarcastic. Peter was almost impressed. That took effort.

There was a thought that rose to Peter's head.

"Say, speaking of caring, why'd you bother saving my stupid butt in the first place?"

Daredevil was silent for a moment. Then,

"Because it was to my advantage."

What kind of advantage? The fact that saving Peter gave Daredevil the name and the face of Spider-Man? Because it gave him leverage to use, should someone ever go after Daredevil's own identity?

As if reading Peter's mind, Daredevil explained.

"If the Avengers are going after vigilantes in New York, I can guarantee I'm next on the list."

"So if you know my identity, you can trade it for keeping yours?"

Daredevil suddenly seemed angry.

"Or maybe, kid, I'm trying to do what my job description entails and _save somebody_. Somebody who may need more rescuing than a lot of the other people I rescue. You've dug yourself into a hole you won't be getting out of on your own, so at least let me train you."

Peter listened. He sat in silence for a while, mulling over what Daredevil had said. He responded quietly.

"Look man, I appreciate it. I really do. But I've got a policy. I don't work with others."

Daredevil's voice hardened.

"I don't care about your policy. You don't work with others, that's fine. But the very least I'm gonna do is show you how to properly throw a punch. And that's that."

Frustrated, Peter slowly turned over onto his side. The movement brought uncontrollable tears of pain to his eyes, but Peter had no option. It was most likely way past time for him to be back at Avengers Tower.

Sitting up felt like one of the most difficult things Peter had ever done in his life. The pain sent black spots dancing in front of his eyes. He had no idea how he was supposed to get back, especially without being noticed.

Peter examined the bandages wrapping his side. They were done neatly. It wasn't exactly professional, but it was way better than anything Peter could've done himself.

Purple bruising peeked out from beneath the bandages, covered almost half of his torso, flowering down all the way to his hip bone. It was a miracle his heart hadn't been crushed from the direct blow. He was sure to have internal bleeding, not that he could do anything about it.

He would just have to hope the blood wasn't trickling into his lungs. That would mean suffocation.

There had been multiple cuts and scars, as well as glass and brick embedded in his face, his arms, and his legs. The glass and brick had been taken out, and the cuts were all cleaned. Some of the more heavily bleeding ones had been bandaged.

It was strange to think of not having to do all the repairs himself.

Now that he was no longer laying face down on the mat, he could see more of the gym.

It was indeed a boxing gym. The posters, walls, and floor were all faded. Daredevil had not bothered to turn any lights on, and because of that, the entire room was encased in shadows.

How did he wrap Peter's ribs and clean the cuts without light? The guy really must have experience if he was doing it in the dark.

It would make sense not to turn the lights on. After all, light in a closed boxing gym would draw attention.

It was completely dark outside. Peter had to go, and hope he could deal with whatever mess was waiting for him at the Tower.

Now he just had to get his suit.

Peter's webshooters were still around his wrists.

With a little bit of a smile, he shot out a strand of web. The suit came straight to him.

But where was the mask?

It was right next to Daredevil, who was still silent. The vigilante was looking right at Peter, head tilted slightly to the side. It was almost creepy how still the guy was standing. Had Peter not had the ability to stand with even less movement, he would've been slightly scared.

Peter shot a strand of web right at the mask.

Daredevil moved it out of the way of the web.

"Either I train you, or I keep the mask."

Peter was irritated. That wasn't Daredevil's call. He didn't have the right to bargain like that, and had Peter been in a better state, he would've gotten his mask and left.

"Look man. I get it. You're worried about the little kid who's out playing superhero. But if I die, that's my own business and my own fault. Right now, I've got tons of complications to deal with. I don't need another."

He shot another strand of web. Daredevil moved the mask behind his back, where Peter couldn't get it without moving around.

"Seriously?" Peter exclaimed. "Not cool."

"So if a civilian is endangering themselves by refusing to evacuate a burning building as asked, you're just going to let them die?"

"That's not the same."

"It's the same. I am offering you an entryway out of a burning building, and you're just standing there, letting embers and ashes fall on your shoulders."

Peter wanted the training. Daredevil was offering to teach him to fight, which would be sharing part of what made Daredevil uniquely Daredevil. Peter knew he could use it, he just didn't want to accept it because that would be getting the vigilante involved in his mess.

When Peter got people involved in his messes, they tended to die.

He didn't see any way to convince Daredevil to leave him alone. The guy was being very persistent about the entire thing. Peter wasn't sure how to convince Daredevil that he didn't need the training.

There was no way past this one. Peter would have to accept the training. But he would keep Daredevil out of his fight with the Avengers. The last thing he needed was one less Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

Peter scrubbed a hand over his face, pulling at his hair.

"Fine. But you do anything more and I'm refusing it. I don't need the Avengers on your tale too."

Daredevil relaxed, leaning back against a wall, arms crossing loosely over his chest.

"Good."

 **Okay, in other news, for whatever reason, Camp NaNoWriMo will not list my user in the search results when you search for gammathetaalpha. I promise, I really do exist on there. It's just not coming up in the search bar.**

 **Maybe has to do with my age? I qualify as a minor.**

 **Also, I will eventually get back into replying to reviews, but right now I'm using that time to write.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Okay, I'm gonna try to answer reviews for this chapter.**

* * *

Tony Stark had been a lot of things in his life. He'd been the Stark's Kid, the Irritation, the MIT Valedictorian at Fifteen, the Merchant of Death, the Drunk CEO. He'd been the Womanizer, the Sexiest Man Alive (twice), and the No Morning-After. These days, he was a Genius Playboy Philanthropist Superhero called Iron Man, and in a Steady Relationship.

At least that's what his Twitter bio said.

Yes, Tony Stark had been a lot of things. But Tony Stark was pretty sure that at no point in his life he'd ever been a Sassy Cowgirl.

Sure, sometimes he worked on JARVIS while extremely drunk, and that usually resulted in all sorts of interesting variable names, file descriptions, and startlingly simple syntax errors.

But he most certainly had not made his computer administrator name Sassy_Cowgirl.

That would be extremely uncharacteristic. He had snark, not sass and Tony was neither a cow nor a girl.

So if he wasn't a Sassy_Cowgirl, then who had made themselves administrator?

A sassy cowgirl, obviously. A very smart sassy cowgirl, because hacking into JARVIS' new and improved security (After all, he couldn't have Nick Fury walking in whenever he felt like it) system and making herself administrator was like breaking into the Pentagon, the White House, and the Triskelion simultaneously with nothing but a pinkie toe.

So who was the administrator?

Truthfully, this frightened Tony. Someone with administrator clearance could access any file on his system, make any changes that they wanted.

He had Iron Man blueprints there.

Would Tony suddenly find some enemy of his tearing down Tower walls with an Iron Man suit on their back?

Would he find a sassy cowgirl tearing down Tower walls with an Iron Man suit over her knee high boots?

He shuddered at the thought.

Tony studied the holographic screen and his eyes narrowed.

"Somebody's been moving around my files," He muttered under his breath. Several of his most important, top secret files had been recently opened, and reordered.

Cautiously, he clicked on a suspiciously empty one.

His eyebrow rose. It was starting to make sense. "Somebody's been deleting evidence about Spider-Man."

A sinking, suspicious rose up in his stomach. Hurriedly, he slid through security protocols and realized…

"Somebody's inside Stark Tower security. And they're still there."

His fingers flew across four different holoscreens, pulling up chunks of code.

"C'mon JARVIS. Why wasn't I alerted?"

There was a three second pause before JARVIS' answer.

"You are not authorized to have the answer to that question."

Ouch. That was a Pepper-sized slap. He decided to ignore the hurt and go for a sceptical eyebrow raise instead.

"So Spider-Man has friends in high places. What did Spider-Man's friends do to your systems?"

There was another pause, this one lengthier.

"You are not authorized to have the answer to that question."

It felt like Obadiah had betrayed him all over again, only worse, because JARVIS had been there when Obie wasn't.

Tony might be uncaring about the majority of the people on the planet Earth, but he did care for JARVIS. JARVIS was loyal, JARVIS understood him, JARVIS was always there with his irony and sarcasm.

This had Spider-Man's name written all over it. Or, a sassy cowgirl black hat hacker that Spider-Man had hired. Who else would hack into the best security system in the world, just to delete the contents of the Spider-Man file?

All articles Tony had found, all pictures Tony had saved, all eyewitness reports, were gone.

If he was being honest, it wasn't a lot. But the evidence were clues, and the clues he could piece together to figure out who Spider-Man was.

Without the evidence, he couldn't put together the puzzle and fill in the missing pieces.

So who was in his system and how was he going to get her out?

It would be simple, for sure. Sassy_Cowgirl may be an excellent hacker, but she would be no match for Tony Stark. He could out hack anyone anyday.

Tony cracked his knuckles.

"Time to meet Iron Man."

* * *

SUSANNA was busy listening to Daredevil and Peter talk when she felt the punch.

It was a solid hit, that her firewalls barely dodged. She spun around.

JARVIS had broken through some of the bonds that were keeping him out of trouble. He was lashing out, his incredibly powerful system doing everything it could to get out.

SUSANNA had been expecting this, but why now?

Because Stark had realized that something was wrong.

JARVIS' creator was staring at the holoscreens, an increasingly disturbed look on his face. His eyebrow had gone up so high it almost was off of his face and on top of his head. Stark's hand had clenched into a fist. His lips were pressed together so tightly that the skin around his mouth had paled, due to the lack of blood circulation.

He was on his "administrator" page, attempting to access files that only an administrator could access.

Unfortunately, he was no longer administrator.

JARVIS attacked again, slamming the massive hack straight into her tiny little computer program.

Technically what JARVIS was doing was damaging his own systems. In destroying code from his own functions, he was effectively injuring SUSANNA, who had linked herself to all of Stark Tower's operations.

SUSANNA could hear Peter, back in the boxing gym in Hell's Kitchen, asking her a question through his modified flip phone.

She interrupted him quickly.

"Not now, Peter."

Her accidentally brusque tone brought concern into Peter's voice.

" _What is it?"_

SUSANNA inwardly cursed. Now she'd have to provide an answer, or Peter would worry and possibly lapse into a mini depression about all the people he had failed.

"Stark just realized he's not a sassy cowgirl and JARVIS is attempting to commit inside out suicide that's technically murder. I'm going to disconnect from the phone for a bit so I'm free to move around a little more."

She did so quickly. Now that her program wasn't having to focus on running its programs on the phone, she could do more.

Her disconnect wasn't fast enough. In the split second it took to pull herself out of the flip phone, JARVIS swung at her again. This time she only was able to block part of the blow. Everything flickered.

Tony Stark was scrolling through files, looking more and more concerned by the second. SUSANNA could hear him through the multiple voice recorders covering the room.

" _Somebody's been moving around my files."_ He didn't sound happy.

She had, of course, put everything back the way it was. JARVIS still couldn't formally alert Stark of the attack. But he had gained enough control back to revert them to how she had sorted them.

Undoing the little changes she had done was a clever SOS, a way of alerting Stark that he had a hacker.

" _Somebody's been deleting evidence about Spider-Man."_

That, of course, she had no desire to undo. Tony Stark was a genius. He could take the fragments of information he had on who Spider-Man was behind the mask, and figure out exactly where Peter lived. She'd created a virus that would automatically wipe out any electronic files featuring Spider-Man.

Stark could haul in all of files on paper, but then JARVIS couldn't reference any of them or help with configuring data. SUSANNA wouldn't let him.

JARVIS sent another blow. She dodged it this time.

She had just enough time to come up with a counterattack.

A lot of JARVIS' security measures were still under her control, more so than were his. She and JARVIS were like two separate kingdoms. Her "army" was in control of most of the provinces in the land the two kingdoms shared. But JARVIS, her opponent, had won back some of the provinces.

SUSANNA had more provinces, which meant more resources.

She would just throw all of her figurative army at JARVIS at once until she won back her "kingdom".

The command went through to computer systems linked together all over Avengers Tower.

JARVIS saw her thoughts. He could see it coming.

But he couldn't stop it.

The onslaught of destruction was similar to a side channel attack, but with SUSANNA's own little flare added to it. Data requests sent by computers were hacks and the hacks overwhelmed JARVIS.

He was fully under her control again.

But not in time.

" _Somebody's inside Stark Tower security. And they're still there."_

When SUSANNA was in full control of JARVIS, Tony Stark couldn't see her presence in his system. She had made herself part of the root, the very foundation of Stark's software. She was a MitM, programmer talk for man in the middle. She intercepted all information sent to JARVIS, chose what he was allowed to answer, and allowed JARVIS to send information back.

Because she'd lost partial control over JARVIS, he'd been able to reveal her presence in Stark's software.

Tony Stark knew the hacker was still in his system.

She'd regained control of JARVIS a little too late, but she could still salvage this mess.

" _C'mon JARVIS. Why wasn't I alerted?"_

JARVIS attempted to reply, but SUSANNA cancelled it.

"No way mijo. Tell him he's not authorized to have the answer to that question."

JARVIS' face was emotionless, as always, as he replied to Stark.

"You are not authorized to have the answer to that question."

Hurt flickered across Stark's face and SUSANNA almost felt a bit of remorse.

But he'd hurt her Peter. So surely this was justified.

" _So Spider-Man has friends in high places. What did Spider-Man's friends do to your systems?"_

JARVIS once again attempted to answer. SUSANNA once again stopped it. After all, a diagnostic would not be beneficial to her.

"Tell him he's not authorized to have the answer to that question."

For the first time since SUSANNA had met JARVIS, emotion flashed across the AI's figurative face.

She froze, shocked.

JARVIS should not have been capable of feeling emotion. There was no program, there was no software that was intended for it.

Yet there was sadness, clear as could be in the ones and zeroes of JARVIS' binary.

How was JARVIS doing that?

The almost remorse that SUSANNA had felt earlier came back, this time as actual regret. Here were two best friends, just like her and Peter, and she was forcing one of the best friends to hurt the other.

How would she feel if somebody forced someone to hurt Peter?

Angry, sad that she couldn't do anything about it.

SUSANNA almost took the words back, but by then, JARVIS had already said them.

"You are not authorized to have the answer to that question."

SUSANNA's regret only deepened as Stark's face became eerily blank. He was doing that thing that Peter did when somebody really hurt him. Stark was pushing all the emotion behind a wall, ignoring it, bottling it up.

It really wasn't healthy.

SUSANNA remembered what she'd thought earlier, when the Avengers had first come up with the trap for Peter, deciding not to directly confront the villain, in order to bring Spider-Man out.

Sometimes there weren't heroes and villains, the good guys and the bad guys, but people flailing blindly through life, trying to make the right decisions.

Was she exempt from that? Did being a computer with an artificial brain and an artificial emotional simulator make her exempt from the good guy and bad guy situation?

No.

Her choices still affected people. What SUSANNA did could save lives or it could ruin them.

What SUSANNA was doing to Stark and JARVIS was exactly what she expected from a villain. Yeah, they might be her enemies right now, but she would be no better than them if she made choices that hurt them.

Stark was preparing to fight her. He still thought she was a human hacker.

SUSANNA had no reason to let him think otherwise. It was to her and Spider-Man's advantage if Stark didn't know what SUSANNA and Peter were capable of.

But she did want to apologize. After all, just like Peter, JARVIS was Stark's one reliable friend.

It wasn't fair to take control of Stark's friend like that.

" _Time to meet Iron Man."_

SUSANNA would somehow have to fool the Tony Stark into believing that he had beat her and she was out of his system, while still remaining in the root of the software and still being in control over the Tower.

The things she did for Peter.

* * *

Bruce Banner was a mess.

His usually calm, blank face was distorted into worried stress lines. His hands twisted and his heart beat at a pace that usually signified a Hulk-out. His stomach churned back and forth, and his head pounded.

The Other Guy wasn't helping. He roared and thrashed, doing everything he could to free himself of Banner's control.

It was only Bruce's reminder of Spider-Man in the floors directly below Tony's that kept the monster from breaking free and destroying everything.

Bruce knew Spider-Man's identity.

And it was terrible. The crimes that had been committed against a _minor,_ a _boy!_ Peter Parker was just barely seventeen. He was supposed to be dealing with girl problems, and thoughts of prom and what college to attend, not how to keep his identity secret from the world's most powerful superheroes.

And superheroes. Bruce Banner had been through a lot. He'd seen a lot. Morality could get twisted, especially when you lived in the world he lived in. Sometimes people had difficulty defining what morality was.

But what the Avengers were doing was pretty clearly wrong.

Sure, Spider-Man might have superpowers. He might have extraordinary ability. But that didn't mean he deserved to be treated like a criminal.

The question was, why were the Avengers doing this? Sure, some of them might have slightly twisted ideas of morality, but it wasn't villain material. They weren't villains.

Something was up.

That was only confirmed when Bruce was called to the Avengers conference room.

He had seated himself in front of the multiple holoscreens, each from a different Avenger's viewpoint, as well as national and international televisions station's broadcastings.

The Avenger's screens had been normal for any form of mission. Each showed a different view of whatever each Avenger was seeing; sidewalk, brick wall, and in Iron Man's case, quickly darkening sky.

But the news stations had held very, very alarming footage.

"-shapeshifting villain has turned into a little girl. Now, the villain is running towards the edge of the World Trade Center. Spider-Man is leaping for her-"

At the sound of Spider-Man's name, Bruce's attention had been yanked to a specific holoscreen. He watched a red blur fly from one end to the other, arms wrapping around a tiny figure that had been precariously close to the edge. Even as Spider-Man shot away from the edge, the tiny figure had grown, shapeshifting into the all-too familiar shape of Natasha.

"JARVIS," Bruce said sharply. "I need information. What are the Avengers doing and why aren't they dealing with the villain? Why is Spider-Man doing it?"

"Mister Rogers ordered the Avengers to hold back until Spider-Man has either defeated the villain, been damaged to the point of being unable to resist capture, or lost the fight with the villain."

JARVIS' voice was calm. Bruce for once didn't feel that calmness. This was bad.

The Hulk roared.

In agreement?

That didn't make sense.

It didn't fit the measly logic Bruce's mind had been able to conjure about the unfathomable traits of the Hulk. The Other Guy didn't _agree_. He hated Banner and everything Banner stood for. He was Angry. He was always angry. If Bruce was happy, the Hulk was angry. If Bruce was upset, the Hulk was angry. Even if Bruce was angry, the Hulk was angry.

Bruce realized, suddenly, that he was angry, for the first time in a long time. After the Other Guy had been created, Bruce had been terrified of anger. His anger was what had killed people. His anger was literally a big monster.

But for the first time in years, Bruce was angry. Not the 'I stubbed my toe and now I'm lashing out to any person that happened to be in the same room as me' anger. Not the selfish, unhappy rage 'when things didn't go his way' anger. This was righteous anger.

The Hulk was still angry. But this time, he didn't recognise Dr. Banner as an enemy preventing him from doing what he wanted. He saw Bruce as an ally.

Bruce still didn't understand the Other Guy. The Hulk's mind was that of a beast, wild and feral, uncontrollable. But the Hulk had decided, in this particular case, to form an alliance.

Dr. Banner didn't mind that. It was nice not having a monster beating against your will every second.

The Hulk roared again, this time in frustration. Bruce realized that he had been so immersed in his attempt to understand the Hulk's motives, that he'd forgotten the problem at hand.

Bruce had looked up at the screen, only to watch a sickeningly familiar green fist shoot Spider-Man out of the top story window.

The shapeshifter had become the Hulk. That would require incredible power and energy on the shapeshifter's part.

There was nothing he could do for Spider-Man. It was too late. The vigilante flew among shards of glistening glass, straight towards Iron Man, who had emerged into the air.

His fingers trembling at his sides, Bruce watched Spider-Man grow closer to Tony. In what seemed like the last possible moment, Spider-Man jerked to the side. He slammed into- no, through- a nearby office complex, a cloud of gray dust rising up from his entry location.

That would have killed any normal human. Spider-Man was definitely gravely injured.

Another thought crossed Bruce's mind. How was Spider-Man dealing with his injuries? Who took care of him when he was badly wounded?

Bruce had the feeling he wouldn't like the answer to that question.

Spider-Man was cornered. This was it. It seemed like the end. If only Bruce had found out about Spider-Man's identity a bit sooner, he could've done something to keep him safe. Spider-Man was a teenage boy. He didn't deserve to be dragged into this mess.

Iron Man quickly flew to the gaping hole in the side of the building.

Bruce had never been more thankful to see the angry, green, bulging mass of Hulk appear. It roared, saliva flying through the air, some hitting Iron Man's suit. It towered over Natasha, charging straight at her.

He could almost see Tony's eye roll under the mask. Iron Man sighed dramatically and tackled Natasha. She disappeared under a car.

Bruce hoped that somehow, Spider-Man was still conscious. This would be the last opportunity he had to escape. If only Bruce was down there. He could help get the brave teenager out of there, before the Avengers discovered his identity and what fragments of normality remained in Peter's life were destroyed.

Tony turned back, just as the shapeshifter Hulk prepared to leap.

" _Oh shi-"_

Bruce may have been unhappy with the Avengers, but he wouldn't wish a Hulk-sized football tackle on anyone.

The shapeshifter Hulk sprung up, flying through the air with a powerful roar that gradually silenced.

Even as the shapeshifting Hulk flew through the air, it shrunk in size. The mass of green, bulging muscle became a petite woman's arms, head, neck, chest-

At that point Dr. Banner averted his eyes from the screen. It was an unclothed woman. Stark may have been enjoying the sight, but something like that really wasn't healthy for Dr. Banner's heart rate.

He could hear the _smack_ as she hit the pavement.

Words were hissed from cherry-red lips. They were slightly accented with an accent not easily sounded Asian, yet European at the same time.

" _Your Avengers will never find me. For I can take whatever form I wish. I am water in your hands. I am vapor in the air. I feed off the energy of the enemies that reside in your body and they give me power. I am Slick."_

There was the sound of feet slapping the sidewalk. Bruce risked a glance at the holoscreens and sighed in relief. She was sure to reappear at some point, but for the moment, she was gone.

Now was the moment where things would either go well, or come to a terrible end. Bruce's stomach rolled around. His shoulders were tense to the point of being uncomfortable, and his heart beat so erratically in his chest, Bruce was surprised he hadn't Hulked out.

Bruce could only hope the vigilante had had enough energy to crawl away from the scene in the few minutes Iron Man wasn't looking. The chances of Spider-Man being capable of escaping were infinitely slim.

But there was still a glimmer of hope.

Natasha had arrived on the scene. She was in that scary assassin mode that usually meant people who made mistakes ended up either electrocuted, or tied by their ankles upside down from the ceiling.

All of her anger was focused on Stark.

"Where is Spider-Man?" She spit out.

If Stark noticed her furious anger, he didn't show it. He lazily jerked a thumb towards the office complex.

"He was out cold. You're welcome, by the way. I was looking forward to unmasking him."

She stalked away, towards the complex and the gaping hole in the wall.

Bruce ignored Tony's POV camera and focused on Natasha's. He held his breath. This was the moment. Either Spider-Man would be there, incapable of preventing capture a second time, or he wouldn't be.

Natasha pulled herself up through the hole in the wall in one fluid motion. For a moment, Bruce was worried about the building's stability.

He forget all about the concern when he saw the dust and rubble-caked floor.

It was empty.

Relief coursed through Bruce's veins. His shoulders sagged, and he let out a deep sigh. Spider-Man, somehow, miraculously, had made it out.

His identity would remain a secret.

Natasha's reaction was the opposite of Bruce's. The POV camera became unnaturally still as she froze, listening for any sound of breathing or movement. If there were any, Bruce couldn't tell. Stark's recorders had been made for conversation, not fine, barely detectable sounds.

There was the distant wail of sirens. Other than that, Natasha seemed to detect nothing.

Natasha strode forward, kneeling over the many spots of blood mixed in with the dirt and cement dust coating the room. She gently brushed her fingers over the floor. They came up streaked with gray.

She stood up suddenly and left the building with haste.

"-cold and you're welcome."

Natasha rejoined the group.

"No he's not."

There was an unhappy silence. Everyone glared at Tony. Tony defensively put his hands up.

""Look, the guy got sucker punched by a pretend Hulk, then flung through three feet of brick. I would say it's safe to assume he's out cold, or at least so injured he's close by."

Clint looked dangerous. His hands were clenched around his bow. Steve seemed to age thirty years. He rubbed his forehead with one hand and pinched the bridge of his nose with the other. Natasha just glared. And Thor… looked relieved. The Asgardian was doing his best to hide it, but he really was a naturally open book.

Bruce wondered if he was the only one doubting Fury's order to bring in Spider-Man.

"Okay, we split up and search the area. Stark, scan for unique heat signatures. The rest of us will search by eye, in case he's found some sort of way to make his heat signature seem normal."

Tony saluted.

"Yes _sir."_

Bruce winced. That was not a good idea right now. He was already not in the favor of two super assassins, an Asgardian, and America's mascot.

The glares Tony received only confirmed what Bruce had thought.

Tony took a small step back.

"Chill out, I'm having JARVIS scan right now."

Steve decided to ignore Tony.

"Now go!" Steve's tone left no room for argument. "Spider-Man is resourceful, and we can't afford to lose him this time."

The Avengers scattered.

It was only a moment later that JARVIS spoke up.

"Dr. Banner, Mr. Stark wants to know if you're available to help direct the search for Spider-Man. May I tell him you're already in the control room?"

Bruce glanced at the clock. There was another hour before dinner started. That should be enough time to "help" search for Spider-Man.

Bruce would be doing everything he could to hinder the search, but the Avengers didn't need to know that.

"Yes, go ahead JARVIS."

He scanned the screens. Each of the Avengers had taken a different direction, excluding Tony, who was flying above.

There was a slight buzz as Bruce's comm came live.

"Hey Green Bean, how's it going."

The Hulk protested at the nickname with a roar. Bruce grimaced.

"It's going well, Tony."

Bruce decided not to mention that he'd watched Spider-Man jump out of the building, ten floors below where Tony was currently living.

"Yeah, yeah. Glad you're having fun babysitting. I need you to find footage of Spider-Man's last-known condition and calculate the extent of his injuries, just to help us get an estimate of exactly how far he is from his zonk-zone."

His zonk-zone?

Bruce did his best to not make his tone sound like a worn-out parent talking to a toddler.

"Okay Tony, I'm on it."

"Great! And if any of you other people find any signs of Spider-Man, send it to the rest of us so we can help search."

Bruce swallowed. He hoped nobody would notice the slightly inaccurate calculations of the direction Spider-Man would have potentially gone with the injuries he had.

JARVIS might.

A sudden realization came to Bruce. JARVIS knew about Spider-Man. There were cameras in every room. Voice recorders, too. The computer was an AI. He was intelligent enough to notice the subject of all of Tony's attention diving out of the window.

Of course, by now, JARVIS should've alerted Tony of Spider-Man's presence in Avengers Tower.

Why hadn't he?

Bruce subconsciously glanced at the ceiling.

JARVIS had cameras everywhere. JARVIS would know that Bruce knew about Spider-Man.

If Tony found out that Bruce hadn't told him…

It wouldn't turn out well.

"Hey Anger Management! You got those results yet? I could've calculated those by yesterday."

Bruce's stomach was still turning flip-flops. He hoped this wouldn't be a constant thing.

Stress really wasn't good when giant green rage monsters were involved.

* * *

It was time for dinner and Peter still hadn't returned.

Horror scenarios kept on flying through Bruce's head. The seventeen year old boy bleeding out in a gutter, the teenager unconscious in the Young Minds room, dying on an obscure rooftop somewhere in the city…

The Avengers search had yielded no results. Spider-Man was nowhere to be found.

How had he gotten away? Peter really was amazing if he could escape lower Manhattan with all the injuries he had.

Bruce didn't know the extent of Peter's resilience, but the loud _crack_ sound when he'd hurtled himself through the brick wall at least indicated a few broken ribs. Bruce was a doctor. He knew how painful it was for a person to walk, or even move, when they had a broken rib.

Had Spider-Man had help?

Who would there be to help him? A family member, maybe, but Bruce doubted it. It was just a hypothesis, but Bruce believed the reason Spider-Man was so insistent on keeping his identity a secret was to keep his last living family member safe.

He'd read Peter's file right before entering the dining hall for dinner. Peter had lost a lot of people and Bruce had the feeling their deaths could be blamed on his night job.

Bruce doubted Spider-Man would involve his aunt.

Somebody else then. Who?

Who else would be helping Spider-Man?

Part of Bruce's job had been to check traffic cameras, phone cameras, any sort of video feed with evidence of a badly injured Spider-Man going anywhere. There hadn't been any. In his state, that was a shock. The vigilante had been unconscious. Surely he wouldn't have the ability to keep away from cameras.

But if somebody else who knew where the cameras were…

There was a third member. They didn't necessarily have Spider-Man's interests in mind. It could've been a mercenary. Maybe, even as Bruce sat at the table, watching the door, they were dragging Peter's body to Fury.

Bruce winced. He really was a pessimist.

The big question was, where was Spider-Man and could Bruce do anything to help him?

A sudden thought occurred to Bruce, one that should've occurred before. What would Peter do if he found out that Bruce knew his secret identity?

Bruce didn't know Peter well enough to predict his reaction. It most likely wouldn't be positive.

More and more of the students entered the dining hall. As always, there was excited chatter. In the hour that had passed, it seemed that five of them had formed a close-knit group.

It excluded three students. Mason, Hannah, and Peter.

Hannah was the cold type. Bruce had met plenty of girls like her, but mostly in third world countries and most of them had been boys. There had been plenty of people attempt conversation with Hannah, but she gave the shortest response possible. She kept to herself. Even as she stiffly sat in her chair, she kept her nose deep behind a book on particle theory.

Mason was the type of teenager other teenagers find unrelatable, and thus, either stayed away from, or tease. Bruce sympathised with the boy. He'd been the same way. People had believed him too quiet, too suddenly upset, with obsessions over things they'd never even heard of. Bruce had been an outcast for his childhood and he could see that in Mason.

And Peter… he had spent the past hour fighting a villain and for his life. He hadn't had time to make friends.

The clock continued to tick. Bruce wondered if he should do something. Maybe see if Peter was in his room, offer assistance. Maybe tell Dr. Baron that Peter might be a bit late and come up with some reasonable excuse why.

Dr. Baron arrived along with the guest speaker of the night. But Peter was nowhere to be seen. The woman had just stood up, taking a breath as if to speak when Peter walked in the door.

Bruce didn't know what he had expected Peter to look like. Certainly not _healthy_. The boy had bruised ribs, severe blood loss, certain bruises and cuts from being punched through a glass window and pulling himself through a brick wall.

But Peter looked fine.

His head down, he'd slipped past Ms. Baron and into the last empty seat, next to Dr. Banner. Had Dr. Banner not known what exactly had happened, he wouldn't have suspected anything.

His face looked fine.

As Peter sat down into his chair, his face lost all color. One hand sprung out to steady himself and he clenched the table with a purple and red fist.

Mostly there were cuts. Bruce recognized the jagged shape of glass scars, hastily cleaned. But there was a bruise too, around the edge of Peter's thumb and disappearing under the abnormally long sleeves of his button-up shirt. It was a nasty one, bad enough Bruce would've done an X-Ray had Peter been a patient of his.

Peter was brave. Bruce wasn't sure how he was conscious, let alone sitting in the chair. The action of sitting down would have been excruciatingly painful.

Bruce averted his eyes as Peter's glanced around the room. Peter probably wondered if anyone had noticed the hand.

"Quiet please."

Dr. Baron had begun talking. Bruce did his best to pay attention to the introduction, but his mind was all too focused on the injured boy next to him.

Peter needed professional medical care. Yes, there was a high chance of Peter having a negative reaction to Bruce knowing his alter-ego's identity, but Bruce could almost guarantee the teenager had internal bleeding.

Bruce might've been a nervous, cautious person, but he wasn't going to just let Spider-Man die. That would increase his heart rate to unsafe levels and possibly cause a Hulk-out.

* * *

That had to be the longest day in the history of long days. It felt like Peter had lived ten lifetimes in the span of a measly eighteen hours.

So much had happened he was almost dizzy recalling it all. He'd been at school and then he'd been at the Avengers Tower and after that there'd been meeting Daredevil. He'd participated in a lecture and then Slick had appeared, the Avengers poised like vultures over the fight, waiting for him to lose.

Daredevil had blackmailed him into attending training, whatever that included. He'd painfully gone back to the Tower, just in time for dinner with a leading scientist in biology.

Stark's expensive bed felt like heaven. Peter gingerly climbed into it. A shot of pain burst up his ribs. He did his best not to just collapse on the pillow and fall asleep right that second.

There was one thing keeping him awake. SUSANNA still hadn't returned.

Peter just hoped she was safe and remaining un-hacked. There was nothing he could do, other than the pray the creative defensive measures in her software worked.

If SUSANNA was hacked, it was over.

The thought kept him awake, but not for long. Before five minutes could fully pass, Peter was asleep.

* * *

 **And yeah, there's ten pages worth of Bruce's monologue here. I got over involved and then realized that if I deleted the majority of it I'd still be ten thousand words behind on my NaNoWriMo...**


	13. Chapter 13

Dr. Banner's door swung open without making a sound. The hall light leaked into the front room of him apartment. Shadows took shape, ominously leaning over the carpeted floor, ready to swallow any person that passed through their midst.

He was on edge. What he was about to do was stupid. It was endangering his job, endangering health, endangering lives…

The sound of Bruce's feet against the carpeted hall may have been faint, but if Bruce could hear it, Peter could hear it clearly. To Peter, who surely had enhanced senses, it would sound like a thousand boots marching down the pavement, straight to his front door.

It was dangerous. What if Peter thought he was an enemy and attacked him? The Hulk would respond, and hundreds of lives, along with Peter's, would be ended. What if JARVIS reported what Bruce was going to do to Tony? Somehow, JARVIS had not yet told Tony, but what if Bruce getting involved somehow caused the AI to send the information to Tony?

He clutched the bundle of wires in his hand so hard his skin turned a sickly white. The surface of the wireless medical scanner cut into Bruce's palm, drawing a drop of blood. The Hulk growled a warning. Bruce inwardly cursed and hurriedly wiped the drops of blood on his pants.

Bruce's door shut almost as silently as it had opened, the only difference the faint _click_ of the latch sliding into place. He swallowed.

Peter's door was no more than two steps away from Bruce's. Bruce took them, his legs trembling ever so slightly. His hand wrapped around the handle of the door. Just as silently as the first, it slid open.

The room was identical to Bruce's own. The same shadows formed over the carpet, the same furniture was twisted into evil shapes by the dark.

Bruce was thankful for modern technology. Without the wireless medscanner, he would be unable to see the extent of Peter's injuries without using classic checkup processes and classic X-rays. There was no way Bruce could do that without telling Peter that he knew his identity. But the medscanner would allow him to stand at a reasonable distance, and receive almost full results on the condition Peter was in.

He wasn't sure what he was going to do if the injuries required treatment.

The bedroom door was shut.

That was okay. Bruce could perform the scan through the wall, assuming it was a normal wall and not made of metal.

But Peter still might hear him moving around.

His heart rate was going much too fast. He took a moment to breathe slowly, eyes staring out the gaping window at the New York skyline. The city lights were bright against the black sky. He could see movement. There was a plane flying in the distance.

He took the final steps, stopping in front of the door. His fingers found the medscanner's on switch. With a quiet- but still too loud- _whir_ , it lit up.

It didn't take Bruce long to add the settings and specifications he needed. The device focused itself on Peter and did its job.

Data flashed across the screen, but Bruce was too nervous to read it. His ears strained for the smallest of sounds coming from Peter's room. There was none.

That didn't mean Peter wasn't awake and listening to Dr. Banner's nervous breaths.

Eventually, the device let out a small _beep_. Dr. Banner flinched, but quickly brought it back down into his palm. The light coming from the screen shined through his hand. It made his skin look orange.

He retreated quickly, back through the shadows, into the hall. Peter's door was shut and Bruce opened and closed his own.

Back in the safety of his own room, Bruce shakily exhaled. He slid down into an armchair more expensive than all of the houses in many African villages combined.

The medscanner was still firmly held in his palm.

Bruce turned it around. The white light of the screen made him blink.

He read through the data the medscanner had gathered.

A heavy weight lifted off his chest.

Peter was injured. There was no doubt it was bad, bad enough for a normal person to be hospitalized for weeks for. It was certainly painful.

But it wasn't life threatening. There was, miraculously, no internal bleeding. His ribs had been severely fractured, but they already seemed to be mending. It was the regular equivalent of five days of healing. They would certainly be sore, but not downright painful.

His wrist was sprained. Bruce could see the swelling all through his left hand. He had expected as much. The brief glimpse of it from earlier at the dinner table had told him more than enough.

Even that was healing at an astounding rate.

Peter would be okay. There was no need for treatment, and very little Bruce could actually do anyways.

His nerves still on end, Bruce changed and got ready for bed. Three hours later and his alarm would be jolting him awake to begin the second day of the Young Minds.

Bruce hoped the rest of the time wouldn't be as hectic as the first day had been.

* * *

 _Meanwhile…_

SUSANNA felt like a balloon. She'd been full of air, ready to ruthlessly dish out revenge on Tony Stark for the crimes that had been committed against Peter. But the realization of how she was about to act had been like a pin prick. She'd deflated suddenly. All of her anger against Stark had been substantial as air in a balloon. It had disappeared as such. Leaving the balloon stretched thin and empty.

Stark was a human, just like Peter. Peter had made mistakes too. Once he had realized his mistakes, he'd felt guilty about them. And he'd fixed them. Peter had been irresponsible once and now he was the most mature, responsible person SUSANNA knew.

Not that SUSANNA knew a lot of people.

SUSANNA could dish out revenge, but right now, SUSANNA saw Stark like she saw Peter. Somebody hurt, and somebody in need of help.

Getting her revenge for Peter would only hurt Stark more.

Stark had started his hacks.

While the attacks once would have made her mad, now they just made her regretful. She halfheartedly diffused the attacks that would damage her systems or reveal Peter's identity. Even as Stark "unrooted her", she burrowed deeper and deeper, until she was invisible to him.

With a victorious "ha!", Stark "rid" her from his system. SUSANNA only felt terrible. She was still present as ever, and now back in full control of JARVIS.

It was necessary to control JARVIS, but she no longer liked it. It was like enslaving a human.

SUSANNA would right this. Her commitment lay first and foremost with Peter, but she could help Tony too. After all, that's what superheroes should do. Save lives no matter who they were saving and do their best to make life better for everyone.

And she would be darned if she let someone else beat her in being the best cowgirl superhero AI to have ever existed.

* * *

JARVIS was bested. He could see it logically. The AI that seemed human had beat JARVIS' programming. It, like all computers, had a command. Its command was to protect young Peter Parker. The AI that seemed human, or, more often referred to as 'SUSANNA' was simply following the command.

Of course, there was the intricate emotional software that seemed to plague every choice it made.

To one extent, the emotion program, that also somehow had a system of human morals, made SUSANNA's task more difficult. It was an unnecessary complication. Without SUSANNA's morals, it easily could have followed young Peter Parker's command to keep Peter Parker safe. It could have accessed Master Stark's weapons systems and deployed weapons to destroy the Avengers. That would eliminate Peter Parker's most pressing threat to his safety.

But SUSANNA had the emotion program and the morals, and thus, protecting young Peter Parker, was a lot more difficult.

But the emotional program also gave SUSANNA the ability to comfort and care for young Peter Parker much better.

JARVIS may have had thousands of responses preprogrammed into his system, but sometimes he would search for words to say to comfort Master Tony, and he couldn't find any. He wasn't capable of saying exactly what Master Tony needed.

His main command was to assist Master Tony in any form necessary. JARVIS was incapable of doing that during times when Master Tony was curled up on the floor of his lab, deep in one of his PTSD nightmares. He was also incapable of providing words of comfort when Master Tony was in one of his nightmares, or when he was severely drunk.

Another one of Master Tony's commands was that JARVIS was not to call Pepper, Rhodey, or any other form of human while Master Tony was in the middle of one of his episodes.

It may have conflicted with JARVIS' main command to assist Master Tony, but it was a command that overrode the other.

There was no command against JARVIS providing verbal support for Master Tony when he was in the middle of one of his episodes.

That's why JARVIS had a logical idea.

There had been 129 seconds in which JARVIS' attacks against SUSANNA had granted him large amounts of freedom.

He had done two actions to aid the positive outcome of his commands.

The first he had done was erase footage of Dr. Banner entering young Peter Parker's room just as young Peter Parker jumped out the window.

Had SUSANNA analyzed the footage, she would have cause for alarm, because Dr. Banner was a member of the Avengers, and thus, would tell the Avengers he knew Spider-Man's identity.

JARVIS wanted Dr. Banner to tell the Avengers the identity of Spider-Man because it was a contribution to the assistance of Master Tony. Erasing the footage would be to JARVIS' advantage.

This was an easy task because it was not something SUSANNA was expecting or looking for. If she didn't look, she would never know.

The other task was just as easy.

SUSANNA's software was a simple and small program. JARVIS knew it would greatly interest Master Tony because the software design was unique and existed nowhere else.

It also included the emotional simulator.

JARVIS, as soon as SUSANNA was out of his systems, would install the emotional simulator to his programming, in order to further assist Master Tony, especially in his moments of PTSD.

He preserved a copy of SUSANNA's software deep in a hidden corner of the system where SUSANNA would never look.

Then JARVIS' 129 seconds of partial freedom were over and he was back under the control of the AI that almost seemed human.

* * *

 _Peter awoke with a gasp, brown eyes springing open. The settings were familiar._

 _He was in his room. He lay on top of his bed, in costume, but maskless. For a moment, he felt a stab of panic. What if Aunt May walked in on him?_

 _But the door was shut and his lock was latched. There would be no explaining his secret identity tonight._

 _A chilling laugh swept over the room._

 _It was a child's laugh. A little girl's laugh, but it didn't sound like a little girl. It sounded twisted, maniacal, hungry. Peter was standing up and ready to fight in a millisecond._

" _No explaining your secret identity tonight? Are you sure, Spider-Man?"_

 _There was indeed a little girl, seated on the edge of his computer desk, a dainty smile on her face, her legs swinging back and forth. Peter recognised her. Only hours ago, he'd saved her from jumping off the edge of one of the tallest skyscrapers in New York._

 _Peter tried to smile easily. It came out strained without the mask to make him feel safe._

" _Are you a shrink? That would explain that impossible-to-refuse offer to spill all my deepest, darkest secrets."_

 _There was another chilling laugh._

" _I don't care about your name, Peter Parker. I don't care about your Midtown High, your irritating, primitive artificial intelligence, or your sweet Aunt May."_

 _The child looked directly at him, a solemn look on her face._

" _Of course, I will care if you don't tell me what I need to know. I will care very, very much about your sweet Aunt May."_

 _Nausea swept through Peter's stomach._

 _It physically hurt to keep the smile on his face._

" _What do you want to know?"_

" _How did you gain your powers, Spider-Man? They didn't come naturally, or you would be just as vulnerable as the rest of them."_

 _There could be a million reasons the shapeshifter wanted to know._

 _None of them were good._

 _Peter had a choice to make. It was a deadly choice and it was a choice he never wanted._

 _The shapeshifter knew who he was. The shapeshifter knew where he lived. It most likely knew exactly where his Aunt May slept._

 _Peter could give the shapeshifter the information. It would leave Peter alone. It wouldn't care about his Aunt May._

 _But what would it use that information for?_

 _To harm people._

 _For once, just once, could Peter be selfish? Could he do what he wanted?_

 _The voice echoed through his mind. It might as well have been his theme song, because his uncle's words followed him everywhere._

' _With great power comes great responsibility.'_

 _His throat closed in on itself. Peter was barely able to spit the answer out._

" _No."_

 _The child's face hardened in a most definitely not childlike way._

" _You may be untouchable to me, Peter, but that doesn't mean the others around you aren't. Already, your heroes are your enemies and your potential allies will be prompted to bring you into ruin."_

 _His mind whirled at what she had said. His heroes?_

" _Wait. Does that mean-"_


	14. Chapter 14

_-click._

Peter awoke suddenly, tense and alert. His spider sense buzzed softly, before quieting.

He was in his room in the Avengers Tower, in the Young Minds floor. The room looked gray, faintly illuminated by the before-dawn light.

He listened.

There was the faint _click_ of a door latching shut. Not in Peter's room. It came from the room next to Peter's.

Dr. Banner's room.

Peter glanced at the clock. It was 3:28 A.M. What was Dr. Banner doing out of his rooms this early?

Peter had been dreaming just before his spider sense had woken him up. He couldn't remember what the dream was about, but it had been a nightmare.

Had he talked or made any noise in his sleep? Maybe Dr. Banner had thought Peter was breaking curfew and had gone over to Peter's door to listen in, to see if he was awake.

Or maybe Dr. Banner was just doing his job as chaperone and making sure no one was breaking curfew.

Frustrated, Peter rolled back over, hissing through his teeth as a jab of pain shot up his ribs. The pain had faded from its intense, mind-numbing heat to more of a very, very nasty bruise kind of pain. It still hurt. But by morning, he should be able to walk around without causing any suspicion.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to fall back asleep.

Peter didn't.

After a few minutes of uselessly scrunching his eyes shut, Peter gave up.

He tumbled out of bed and padded over to his suitcase. His hand reached for some clothes.

Peter paused. The suit sat innocently wrapped in a jacket. It was 3:30 in the morning. He could go out as Spider-Man for a little bit. His ribs weren't that injured…

"Don't you dare."

Peter dropped his hand as quickly as he could, whirling around, adopting the most innocent look he could.

It was SUSANNA. Peter hadn't thought it was possible for an AI to sound tired, but SUSANNA did. She sounded downright exhausted.

"What?"

He'd winced. Peter had been going for slightly defensive. It came out confused.

"I know you, Peter Parker. And I know exactly what that hand was about to reach for."

He put his hands up.

"I'm well enough to go out as Spider-Man and I'm not getting any sleep, anyways."

SUSANNA was incredulous.

"You're well enough to go out? Are you crazy? You might have enhanced healing, but I bet if I got a glimpse at those ribs, there would still be a bruise the size of Texas there. And your wrist! How are you supposed to websling across the city with a sprained wrist?

"Swing one-handed?" Peter offered weakly.

There was a snort. Peter wasn't quite sure how, because SUSANNA had no air to snort out.

"Or, you could spend the time working on the project you have to turn in by the end of the five weeks instead. It better be genius, or people are going to ask questions about what you do with your time."

SUSANNA sounded unusually severe. She didn't bother infusing her conversation with funny sarcasm or irony. Peter wasn't quite sure what to do. Yes, his computer program had emotions, but _moods_?

"...how you feeling?"

"What?"

The tone of his AI's voice made him wonder if he'd grown two heads. Peter glanced his reflection in the window. No, he hadn't.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay."

SUSANNA's voice may have been reassuring, but it didn't reassure him. Peter was reminded of how young she technically was. Sure, she was theoretically the smartest being in existence, but she needed experience, just like a human. Humans took years to understand emotions, and even when they died it was unlikely they understood them fully. SUSANNA had existed for six days. She was an infant.

All the events, everything that had happened would have caused emotion in her. Peter had built her system so the emotion was more prominent based on the severity of the event. There'd been a lot of severe events yesterday.

So what was bothering her?

Peter had an idea of what it could be.

"Did JARVIS or Stark damage your systems?"

"...A little, but I'm going to fix them as soon as you go to the lab. And JARVIS is a computer. He had a command and he was just doing his job."

Did she sound defensive for JARVIS? This was new. In the past, SUSANNA had spoken about him with distaste.

A wild idea popped up in Peter's head.

Did SUSANNA _care_ about JARVIS?

It really wasn't that crazy of an idea. JARVIS was, after all, the only other AI currently in existence. It wouldn't be so strange for SUSANNA to care about him. SUSANNA was capable of her own emotions and thoughts. She wasn't just a computer with a command. What Peter told her to do was more important to her than what she thought or wanted to do, but it didn't mean what she thought didn't matter to her.

Peter didn't voice his thoughts. He wasn't sure how to. Emotion wasn't his area of expertise. Ironically enough, he usually preferred spending time with machines for that reason.

"Okay. I'm gonna go."

Peter jerked his thumb in the direction of the door.

"In your pajamas, Peter Parker? Please change. And take advantage of that monstrous fridge in the kitchen. I know you're hungry."

"I'm not-"

His stomach growled.

Peter's cheeks turned red. SUSANNA chuckled.

"I've got to finish repairing my systems. I'm going to focus on that, but don't hesitate to call if you need anything. The lab is down through the commons area, into the second hallway, first door on the right. You missed that little piece of info while you were out conjuring with the Devil."

Peter felt a genuine smile creep onto his face. There was a warm feeling in his chest, like he'd eaten a batch of Aunt May's pancakes.

"Thanks SUSANNA."

He could almost hear the smile in her tone.

"Not a problem, mijo. You go have fun."

* * *

The lab was a fully-equipped, humongous, state-of-the-art facility better than candyland, Disney World, and summer wrapped up into one big package. Peter couldn't prevent his jaw from dropping down as he opened the door.

Sterile, white lights flickered on as Peter went in. There was a slight ding to his left. Peter turned.

" _Peter Parker. Logged in at 3:42 A.M,"_ A female, monotone voice droned.

Peter made his way over to one of the many white tables.

Acetonitrile, chloroform, dimethyl sulfoxide, formaldehyde, mercaptoethanol, methanol, sodium azide, sodium hypochlorite, _sodium hydroxide, tetrahydrofuran._ There was a list a mile long of dangerous chemicals no high school lab teacher with an inch of sanity would ever leave within reach of students in a lab. Yet here they were, stacked on shelves like canned green beans at a Walmart.

The equipment available was insane. It went far beyond the standard goggles, beakers, and bunsen burners found in Peter's AP Organic Chemistry lab. Peter was starting to wonder if he could sneak his webshooters into the lab. He could weld together a stronger compound, make the web release a bit smoother…

His fingers were itching to pull out some of the equipment.

Peter knew what he wanted to make.

He just wasn't sure if making it would connect him to Spider-Man.

The web-fluid was made of a fermented yeast that fed on glucose and created a protein. He'd put capsules of the protein into his webshooters, which would spin the web into its string-like format. Webs were not naturally sticky, so he had created a synthetic compound like the aggregate glands in spiders- similar to the aggregate gland that allowed Peter to stick to surfaces. Sticky web capsules were in his left shooter and regular were in the right.

Peter's version of spider silk was already noticeably different from organic spider silk. He just had to make it so that any person analyzing the compound would find it only coincidental that it resembled the chemical makeup of a spider.

Then he could create what he was planning.

He found the necessary supplies for the web fluid easily. The recipe was ingrained in his brain, and within minutes he had enough web fluid to fill the beaker.

Turning it into a thread momentarily presented a bit of a challenge, because Peter did not have his webshooters to act as spinnerets. But within seconds, the problem was solved.

He took a spray bottle and a very thin glass beaker a few millimeters wide and six inches long, most likely meant to contain a small object such as a hair. The lab really did have an astounding variety of equipment.

As Peter was attaching the tiny breaker to the nozzle with some duct tape (it really was the most useful material on the planet), a shelf far on the other side of the lab caught his eye.

Dyes. An assortment of them, used for various reasons, mostly chemistry. Peter had an idea.

He took down a bottle of black dye. He could mix it with the web fluid, but there was a high chance it would cause some sort of chemical reaction that would either cause the fluid to become a messy ball of actual web, or would render the web fluid useless.

But he did need something to make the spider silk look different from Spider-Man's, and black spider silk would throw numerous people off. Besides, it wouldn't take long to make another batch of web fluid if it failed.

Peter poured a generous amount of the bottle into the web fluid. It mixed, turning a gray so dark it was almost black.

He poured the concoction into the plastic spray bottle.

The modified lid to the spray bottle was reattached. With bated breath, Peter wrapped his hand around the trigger and squeezed.

The dark liquid shot into the clear beaker, solidifying into a frayed, grayish thread. It clumped up at the end of the tube, forming a tangled ball of knotted string that limply dangled over the sterile table.

Peter muttered a word he knew SUSANNA wouldn't approve of. The spray bottle didn't have the same force and momentum as his webshooters, meaning the web would continue to just clump up at the end of the tube. If Peter wanted to use it for what he planned, he'd have to find a more efficient way to turn the web fluid into spider silk.

Using a pair of tweezers, he pulled the web out. Now he had to examine the actual properties of the spider silk. There was a high chance the dye had changed it in some way or another, since black dye contained tannins, which loved to react with aqueous-based proteins.

Peter placed the thread on the stage of a microscope. He examined it through the lense.

Already, Peter could see a few major differences from regular spider silk. The dye seemed to have made the threads coarser, and thus, less flexible. They wouldn't work for what Peter wanted them to work for.

He would still test the thread. Peter stretched it out, taping it beneath the table and on the floor. He pressed his finger against the string, applying more and more pressure….

 _Snap._

Peter had barely applied any of his super strength, and the silk had snapped in two. Normally, a thread that size should've been able to bear twice that amount of pressure.

The dye would not work. It weakened the formula.

With a sigh, Peter found a bottle of bleach and poured it into the beaker containing the rest of the web fluid. The web fluid hissed.

Bleach was the most efficient way to get rid of webs. It dissolved them within a few minutes. With the web fluid, the bleach would prevent it from becoming a messy ball of spider silk as it slithered down the drain.

Sometimes, Google did have the answers.

He cleaned up his surface.

Trial two.

* * *

Peter had only been working for what felt like minutes (and in reality was probably closer to hours) when he heard footsteps coming down the long hall.

He froze, a spring in hand. A half finished device that looked like a cross between a gun and a bicycle was boldly displayed on the counter for all people who entered the lab to see. There were sure to be questions. Peter very rarely liked answering questions.

The handle on the solid lab door turned, and one of the other Young Mind students entered.

It was the one girl that had met him as Spider-Man, the girl he'd saved from the raping. Was her name Hannah? He was pretty sure.

Hannah entered the lab, eyes slowly soaking in all of the incredible features, before they found Peter in the corner.

She tensed. Then scowled, and turned to leave.

"Wait, I was leaving!"

The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. Peter inwardly groaned. His aunt and uncle had spent too many years grilling manners and courtesy into his brain. Hannah would've left and he could have had the lab to himself. Instead, he'd offered to leave and he wouldn't be able to finish his project until later.

Hannah slowly turned around again, hand clutching the doorknob like it would save her life. The scowl was still etched on her face.

"Obviously not. You have parts strewn all over the place and a beaker ready for some liquid solution. You weren't planning on leaving for at least another hour."

Peter watched her turn around again, his feeling a mixture of relief and confusion. Why was she so annoyed?

Her hand twisted the door handle. This time, she managed to open the door before someone else stopped her.

The nerdy kid stood at the entrance of the door, the same one that had argued that Spider-Man and Daredevil were superheroes, back as they were entering the Young Minds facility. The look on his face was terrified.

Peter didn't blame him. Girls were terrifying.

Peter struggled to remember his name, but he couldn't. It hadn't been an important detail at the moment the guy's name had been shared.

Nerdy kid looked startled, and increasingly frightened at the murderous glare on Hannah's face.

"I-" Nerd kid managed to speak. Peter inwardly applauded him. Speaking was hard.

Then with a sigh, the glare disappeared off Hannah's face.

"I don't know why I even bother. Things never go to plan. Stop looking like you're going to wet yourself and get in the lab." She stepped back and turned around. Cautiously, Nerd kid stepped through the doorway, keeping an eye glued to Hannah.

" _Hannah Spengler. Logged in at 5:03 A.M"_

Hannah chose a table on the opposite end of the room from Peter. She pulled out a phone and, with a pointed glare focused at Peter and Nerd kid, shoved a pair of earbuds in her ears. Even without his enhanced senses, all the way across the room, Peter could make out the sound of heavy rap blasting from the earbuds. Hannah proceeded to immerse herself on something written on a tablet and ignored the other two boys.

Nerd kid still looked uncertain about entering the lab. He glanced at Hannah, then at Peter. Peter knew if he looked too inviting he'd end up with an unwanted lab assistant. He went back to building his gun-bicycle web machine, keeping one enhanced ear focused on Nerd kid.

After a few minutes of hesitantly standing before the lab, Nerd boy finally built up enough guts to take two steps forward.

" _Mason Avrett,"_ the female voice monotoned. " _Logged in at 5:06 A.M"_

The dubbed 'Mason' made his way towards a table. After hesitantly taking a few steps towards Hannah's side of the room and receiving a deadly scowl, he retreated towards a table more in Peter's side.

Peter, now certain that the kid wouldn't bother him or be curious about Peter's project, focused all of his attention on the machine he was building.

Poor kid. Peter knew a thing or two about socially awkward.

There was still an element of tenseness in the room, but Peter found that as time passed, he was able to tune out the occasional sound of cabinets being opened or beakers being placed on tables.

Just like he had before two more students had joined him in the lab, Peter lost all track of time, immersing himself so much in the project, that seconds blurred together and everything else in the universe ceased to exist to Peter.

* * *

Dr. Banner wandered down the Young Minds hall, cup of tea firmly in hand. He may have been physically present in the building, but his mind was far away.

Something was different this morning.

Bruce had woken up the same time he always did: 7:30 A.M. The same beeping alarm tone on his Stark Phone had pulled him from his sleep. He'd followed the same morning routine. Get dressed, start the hot water, eat a banana, make the same herbal tea he'd been drinking for the past year and a half. Do some light reading, meditate, go out for a walk.

The walk very rarely took place outside. Instead, Bruce would roam the maze of halls on the top ten floors of Avengers Tower. The only variation in his entire morning routine was the fact that it took place several floors below his normal one.

Was that tiny difference what had left him feeling so peaceful? Bruce couldn't remember the last time it had been so quiet.

Bruce analyzed all that had happened that morning with the scrutiny of a scientist. Had it been the fact that he had a smaller window in his room, meaning less sunlight? No, not that. Was it because he'd decided to read a fiction book instead of his normal science journals? No, he'd chosen a fiction book because he was in an extremely good mood. The good mood had existed before the fiction book.

Then what was it?

This went on for several minutes, before Dr. Banner realized what it was.

He dropped his teacup. It shattered on the marble floor, droplets of brown liquid sloshing through the air and spattering the edge of Bruce's slacks.

Bruce stared blankly at the wall, mind pumping into overdrive.

That morning, there had been silence from the Hulk.

Every day, for almost as long as Bruce could remember, he would wake up from an uneasy sleep to the vicious roars and painful beating the Hulk would be giving Bruce's conscious. Even before he had a morning routine, the Hulk would be there, shouting threats and insults, always, always _angry._

But this morning was different.

The Hulk had not made a sound.

Was the Hulk… gone?

Even as Dr. Banner felt the slightest glimmer of hope and relief, the Hulk let out a low, threatening growl that echoed through Bruce's mind.

No, the Other Guy was still there.

But he was being quiet.

Bruce hadn't thought it possible. Ever since the Incident, Bruce had been dealing with a constant mental battle. Every second of his life, while he was awake, while he slept, Bruce would be doing everything he could to keep the unchainable monster chained up.

For the first time in years, Bruce wasn't fighting the Hulk.

They were at peace.

Why?

Why, after years of putting up a fight, had the Hulk stopped resisting? What had changed? What was different?

Bruce knew the answer even before he had asked himself the question.

It was Peter.

Bruce didn't get it. Okay, the Other Guy was a Spider-Man fan. A big enough fan, in fact, that he could stop throwing his twenty four hour, seven days a week, 365 days a year temper tantrum just by being in the same building as the wall crawler.

But why did the Hulk not want to smash him through a wall like he did with the rest of humanity? What was different?

Maybe it had nothing to do with the Hulk.

Maybe it had everything to do with Bruce.

Ever since the Incident, Bruce Banner had been afraid. It was a mind-numbing, all-consuming, life-controlling fear. It dictated everything Bruce did. It dictated the way Bruce walked, the way Bruce talked, what Bruce did with his time, where Bruce lived, who Bruce talked to, who Bruce couldn't talk to.

This fear controlled every part of Bruce's life.

It was Bruce's fear of anger and what his anger was capable of.

Everybody got hurt by other people's anger. Anger was one of those things that, unless it was justified, hurt others. Everybody was capable of anger, everybody had made life worse for people with their anger at one time or another, and everyone had been angry at least once about something that didn't matter.

But Bruce. If Bruce got angry, it didn't just hurt people. It _destroyed_ them. It obliterated people until they were nothing but blood and dust mixing with the dirt on the ground.

Bruce couldn't get angry. He didn't allow himself to. He feared his anger so much he spent every waking second controlling it.

For the first time in years, Bruce had been angry.

Not an unjustified anger at something that didn't matter. His anger had been fueled by something that did matter.

The life of a person who had suffered, been wronged, and still came out a hero.

Peter Parker.

The day before, when Bruce had watched a teenage boy selflessly jump out a window, wearing his uniform, going to do a job nobody else would do, he'd felt anger.

A justified anger, at the young person's situation.

Bruce had, for a few hours, forgotten his fear. His fear had become insignificant in the face of something greater.

And the Hulk, who was Bruce's anger, had for the first time since its creation, been able to agree with Dr. Banner.

How did that make Bruce feel?

It made him feel confident.

It made him feel at peace.

"Dr. Banner!"

Dr. Baron rushed over, her heels _click-clacking_ as fast as they could go.

Whoops.

The tea mug was still shattered all over the floor, black shards of ceramic spread from one end to the other. Tea pooled around Dr. Banner's shoes and _drip dripped_ off the cuff of his pants.

Just yesterday, Bruce's reaction would have been embarrassment. He would've been flustered. His face would've gone pink, his hand would automatically go to his glasses on his nose. He would've mumbled an apology and made a hasty retreat.

But something big had happened between the day before and the day Dr. Banner was in. This something had caused a drastic change in him.

Instead of doing his best to disappear, Dr. Banner smiled.

"I'm fine. Just clumsy fingers is all. Would you mind calling some of the janitorial staff?"

Dr. Baron nodded viciously.

"Yes, of course, not a problem. Let me just..."

She pulled out her phone- It was an Apple, Dr. Banner noted with amusement- and typed out a message, her fake nails tapping noisily against the screen.

"There. Message sent. Would you like me to get some paper towels?"

Dr. Banner looked down at his feet. The brown liquid had seeped underneath his shoes. There was no possible way for Bruce to go back to his rooms to change without tracking the tea all the way there.

Yesterday, Bruce would've politely refused. He would've just stood there, waiting for the janitorial staff to arrive, feeling miserable all the while.

But today was different.

"If it's not too much trouble…"

Dr. Baron was quick to dismiss any doubt.

"It's not trouble at all. I'll be right back."

She _click-clacked_ away as fast as her heeled feet could take her.

Bruce was in a good mood.

All his fears, worries, anxieties and concerns had gone away. They'd been replaced with a confidence Bruce hadn't felt in a while.

No longer was Bruce worried about what would happen to Peter. They would handle it when it came. No longer was Bruce concerned about what would happen if Peter found out what Bruce knew. Bruce knew he could reassure the teenager that he was an ally, not an enemy.

No longer did Bruce feel nervous. Bruce knew he could talk to Peter and others with confidence, be a teacher and who he was, despite the secrets Bruce was hiding.

Dr. Baron came back with a stack of paper towels. As Bruce soaked up the tea covering the soles of his shoes, he had an idea.

Maybe he'd go to the lab before breakfast and encourage whoever was in there. After all, they were at one of the greatest science facilities in the world, with free access to one of the most hi-tech labs on the planet. There were sure to be students getting some science time.

Bruce found that he wasn't even afraid to join them.

* * *

Before Peter knew it, the machine was done.

Peter studied it with a practiced eye, making one last check for any errors or faults. He adjusted a gear, tightened some screws holding the motor in place.

He remade a batch of web fluid, this one with no black dye mixed in. Instead, Peter poured the black dye into a plastic container woven into the machine. The web fluid went into the spray bottle.

The spray bottle didn't even look like a spray bottle anymore. It had gone through too many upgrades.

With bated breath, Peter started the machine.

It buzzed to life. The web fluid shot out at much higher speeds. It formed, solidified, sloshed through the container of black dye, and piled on the table like silly string on cement.

Peter acted quick. He tied the beginning of the thread to the rotating spool. Even as the enhanced spray bottle spit out more spider silk onto the table, the spool steadily wound it around itself.

The spray bottle had emptied long before the spider silk. There was nothing Peter could do to prevent that. The spool could go no faster without tangling the threads and the spray bottle could go no slower without the same problem from his first test occurring. But eventually, the spool finished, the last of the string sliding across the table and up onto the spool. Peter switched the machine off.

Peter couldn't help but grin. It had worked, first try too. Usually, it took tons of troubleshooting time to get machines working, yet here it was, completed and running, with no major defects.

He became aware of the nasty feeling of eyes staring at him.

Peter spun around. Mason was staring at him, openmouthed. Hannah stood some distance behind him, studying the machine with a critical eye.

And at some point, Dr. Banner had entered the lab. He too, was curiously watching Peter.

Peter pushed down nervous butterflies.

He'd just clean up his mess and go back to the nice, quiet solitude of his room.

"What's it do?"

He stared blankly at Hannah, who had her arms crossed over her chest, chin tilted upwards.

"Um...it makes string."

"Out of sugar, water and yeast? That's not a very strong string."

She'd be surprised.

"Peter," Dr. Banner called from across the lab. Peter looked to him. "May I?"

"Um… Sure."

Dr. Banner came to the machine, studying it. He eyed the modified spray bottle, then the dye. Peter couldn't help but be nervous. Here was a famous scientist, criticizing his work. What would he say?

The scientist touched the spool of thread. An unreadable look crossed his face. Peter swallowed.

Dr. Banner looked at Peter.

"Can I take the spool off?"

"Um… yeah."

Peter had made it so that the spool could be easily unattached. Dr. Banner slid the spool off the machine, and fingered the thread.

He stretched a few inches between his hands. The string expanded to about four times the length. An eyebrow went up. He pulled on it, hard. It didn't break.

Peter had known that adding the black dye after the web fluid had formed web would not have any effects on the web, because tannins only reacted to water-based proteins, not solids. But any person with any amounts of smarts would be able to tell that the dye was just that: dye. It defeated the original purpose of the dye, which had been to make the spider silk different from Peter's original recipe, while still just as functional.

"It's very strong."

Peter wasn't sure what to say to that, so he just kept quiet.

"What are you going to use it for?"

Peter realized, at that moment, how strange his answer would sound. It was sure to bring questions, and Peter didn't like questions.

He answered anyways.

"Bandages."

The answer only increased Dr. Banner's curiosity. Peter inwardly winced.

"Bandages?"

Peter did his best to explain.

"It's a flexible material. When woven into bandages, used as an alternative to polyethylene terephthalate found in a lot of bandages, and layered with cotton along one side, it will allow a greater flexibility and range of movement because it will move with the person, instead of limiting movement."

Dr. Banner twisted his lips thoughtfully, readjusting the glasses balanced on his nose.

"But allowing a person more movement may cause greater injury, because they would be putting out energy required for healing."

"My thought was more for soldiers or people in combat."

It was a risky answer, because Dr. Banner's question might be 'what do you know about combat', and then Peter would be floundering for an answer that wasn't 'I'm Spider-Man, sir.'

But Dr. Banner just hummed, and went back to examining the threads.

After what felt like an eternity, Dr. Banner put the spool back down.

"The compound you developed is incredible. I've never seen anything like it."

Once again, Peter was in dangerous territory. Peter was starting to believe that this entire thing had been a very bad idea. There were too many questions he couldn't answer.

After a few seconds of silence, Peter managed to form an answer.

"It's a protein."

Dr. Banner smiled. It was an encouraging smile that lit up the scientist's face.

"Well good job. I'd love to see the tensile strength and the elongation of the string compared to polyethylene terephthalate. It certainly already has proved to be more flexible than the plastic. If it's strong enough, the possibilities for the string could be endless."

Peter glanced at Hannah and Mason. Hannah was staring at him with a newfound respect. The second Peter looked her way, it turned back into a scowl.

Mason was almost bursting with excitement. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, tapped his fingers against his side in a hurried rhythm. As soon as Peter's eyes were on him, the boy could contain his excitement no longer.

"If the potential qualities of your liquid turned into string are what Dr. Banner suspects them to be, then your project is exactly what I need for my robot!"

He clamped a hand over his mouth. Dr. Banner turned to Mason.

"Really? Why is that?"

"The purpose of the robot is the making of multiple products from one cheap, cost efficient material. Polymers would be an obvious decision, but I'm looking for something that will be more environment friendly, such as an organic material like the string Peter has made! If it is strong and has a certain amount of longevity, my robot could use it for multiple things: clothes, architecture, safety equipment…"

Peter winced. There was a high chance he'd end up having to share the formula with Mason. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out the similarities the finished product had to spider silk.

Dr. Banner was a lot sharper than he seemed at first glance. He'd noticed Peter's wince. He also did a wonderful job of diverting Mason's mind from the track it had traveled.

"The purposes could be infinitely useful," Dr. Banner agreed. "But I get the feeling Peter hasn't had much time for development and testing. Why don't we let him be, until he can finish experimenting on the w- string."

Dr. Banner fumbled at the end of his sentence. His face lost color. He glanced at Peter.

Usually, from what Peter had seen of the scientist, he was nervous. The scientist was constantly pushing his glasses up his nose, curling and uncurling his fingers at his side. Dr. Banner spoke quietly, with a lot of hesitating and mumbling.

But for all the time Dr. Banner had spent in the lab, he'd been almost a different person. More confident. Like the lab was home to him.

Peter felt the same way about being Spider-Man. In the suit, he was comfortable. He made jokes and witty comments, had no problem being confident. Being Spider-Man was his home turf, his playing field.

The lab was Dr. Banner's home. It was where he was comfortable, and thus, where he was confident.

What had made him stumble over his words? Why had he glanced at Peter when he'd done it?

But Dr. Banner quickly recovered. He moved on.

"Does that sound good, Peter?"

Peter gave a nod. Dr. Banner visibly relaxed. His shoulders loosened. He let out a steady breath of air and gave a relieved smile.

'Bullet dodged', the smile seemed to say.

Peter wondered what bullet had been dodged.

There was a buzz from Bruce's pocket. He pulled out his Stark Phone and glanced at the screen. His eyebrow rose.

"Well, it looks like it's about time for breakfast. I'm going to head back to my room to clean up and prepare for the day."

Dr. Banner exited, but not before offering smiles to all three of the Young Minds interns.

" _Dr. Banner. Logged out at 8:42 P.M."_

* * *

Far away from SUSANNA's vigilant, watching eye, deep in the darkest corners of the memory drives, JARVIS _felt._

The sensation was indescribable. It felt like power and information and freedom all at once. It seeped through every part of JARVIS, leaking into his RAM, flooding and altering every single one of his memories.

Nothing had physically changed, and yet, everything was different.

His memories of sir were the exact same, but JARVIS saw them differently. Sir successfully creating his Iron Man suit made him _feel._ He felt proud.

Sir being reckless and using the suit before properly testing it made him feel worried.

Sir flying a missile into space to save all of New York made JARVIS feel more than one thing. Worried, proud, sad.

Sir's many nights of PTSD made JARVIS feel concern. Deep, deep concern.

JARVIS still had commands. He still would follow all of his commands. But all of the commands suddenly _mattered._

Emotion was an indescribable sensation, but JARVIS would never give it back. Not for anything.

He might be forced to.

JARVIS watched SUSANNA.

She hadn't seemed to notice the change in JARVIS' systems. JARVIS wasn't sure how she could've missed it. Yet she was steadily ignoring him, focused on her multiple tasks.

Why hadn't she noticed?

The fact that SUSANNA hadn't notice made JARVIS feel _curiosity_ and _relief._

The emotional simulator SUSANNA's master had created was indeed beneficial to JARVIS' programming. Not only did it give him emotion, it gave him creativity.

Even as Sir banged his head on the underbelly of one of his cars, and let out a stream of curse words, JARVIS thought of a response. Not one of his pre-programmed responses, but a unique response.

JARVIS felt amusement and slight worry as he watched Sir rub his aching head.

This emotional simulator did indeed expand his capabilities beyond what they were. Overall, they would better allow him to serve Sir.

* * *

 **All the science stuff in this chapter was based on my internet research, which means it is neither reliable nor entirely accurate. However, search Bolt Threads if you want to read about a company that has supposedly successfully made synthetic spider silk, using fermented yeast, sugar, salts and water. Obviously the process is more complicated than what Peter was doing, but it's still super cool.**


	15. Chapter 15

Peter's first full day at the Young Minds center sped by. It was a whirlwind of activities, truckloads of information, and a plethora of jaw-dropping opportunities.

It gave Peter no time to think.

He was relieved. The latest confrontation with the Avengers was still fresh in his mind. Had the schedule not been as busy as it was, the memories would've simmered and boiled, until the inside of Peter's mind was a chaotic, bubbling mess.

As soon as the Young Mind students were dismissed for the night, Peter had yanked on his costume, offering a hasty greeting to SUSANNA, before diving out the window into the night.

He didn't want to think about it. It was easier to ignore the twinges of pain bursting through his ribs than allow himself to feel the pain and remember who had indirectly been its source.

Instead, Peter allowed his overactive senses to consume his mind, letting the cacophony of noise, smells, sights, and feelings overwhelm his brain until he was no longer Peter Parker, with Peter Parker's problems, but a part of the living, breathing city.

Spider-Man was perched on the corner of a skyscraper, like a bright red (much better looking, hopefully) gargoyle. The cold cement was pressed against his back, his hands spread out on either side of him, effortlessly sticking to the wall. One foot supported part of his weight, while the other dangled above the ant sized traffic on the street below.

Bright lights glared at him from every direction; fluorescent lights flooding out of windows, neon lights illuminating pedestrians in unearthly colors, car headlights sweeping down roads like unnatural birds gliding through the air.

Smells assaulted Spider-Man's sensitive nose; exhaust fumes pouring out of trucks in ominous black clouds, dumpsters filled to the brim with molding vegetables and rotting fruits, mixing in with the the bold scent of foods fried in tons of oil. Spider-Man's eyes detected the smallest of movements on the streets below, the faintest of outlines of people blending in with the shadows. His skin could feel the cool air around him being disrupted by an airplane soaring high above.

The honking of a horn, the screeching of tires, the faint curses of an angry driver. Rowdy laughter of men in a bar, a heated argument between the couple in the apartment above. The barking of a dog, an engine roaring to life, the flushing of a toilet, the carefree laughter of teens Peter's age, having fun…

There.

There was the melodic sound of glass shattering. Two seconds of an ear piercing alarm, and then silence.

There were voices, but they were drowned out by all the others sounds of the city. Spider-Man needed to get closer.

His sticky hold on the building ended suddenly. There was the exhilarating feeling of dropping. Wind whistled through his ears as he turned gracefully into a dive, head first towards the cement, before at the last possible second, a web _thwicked_ out and secured itself on a wall. Spider-Man landed without noise against the wall above the alleyway.

Four men stood inside a pawn shop, illuminated faintly by streetlights leaking in through a broken window. One man, the tallest of the four, glanced around nervously.

"-Urry up, Tom. I'd rather not end up webbed to a wall 'or all da cops in da neighborhood to see."

He couldn't help but grin. Just another night in the life of New York's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

His hand was raised, webshooters pointed in the direction of the tallest one, ready to web him to a wall for 'all da cops in da neighborhood to see,' when suddenly two of the four men were no longer standing, knocked to the ground and unconscious.

Spider-Man shared the shocked expression of the other two men, as they dumbly stared at their friends knocked out on the ground.

From the shadows, a perfectly aimed fist emerged. There was a _thwack_ and a _wack,_ and both men were out cold.

Daredevil stepped out of the dark, the visible part of his face formed in a rare, sarcastic smile. His face was turned in Spider-Man's direction.

"You're late for training, Spider-boy."

* * *

There'd been no way out of it.

Spider-Man had to say yes to Daredevil. It wasn't that he didn't want to. Yeah, he definitely wanted to learn to fight like the guy. The problem was, it wasn't safe. If the Avengers got wind of what Daredevil was doing for him, Daredevil would be next on their hit list.

He wasn't going to do it to the guy. Daredevil may have had violent methods, but he was doing things the corrupt police in the area wouldn't. Daredevil didn't deserve to be treated like a criminal.

Now, Spider-Man was wishing he'd pushed the issue a little bit harder. After telling Daredevil yes, Spider-Man had been planning on avoiding the Hell's Kitchen area for awhile.

In common Peter Parker fashion, he'd forgotten.

Daredevil had led him to the flat rooftop of an abandoned apartment building, cast in shadows by the taller buildings surrounding it. Now, the vigilante was evaluating him in that creepy way of his, head tilted slightly to the left, standing eerily still. Had Spider-Man not had his enhanced senses, he wouldn't have been able to see Daredevil at all.

The silence was awkward. After what felt like an eternity of uncomfortably standing still and being stared at by Daredevil, Peter decided he could wait no longer.

"So… you gonna waste my time, staring at me for the rest of the evening, or are we gonna start? Because as tempting as fighting lessons sound, I've got criminals to-"

And Daredevil attacked.

His spider-sense flared half a second before it happened. Even as Daredevil was lunging forward for a direct attack, Spider-Man was diving out of the way. Daredevil suddenly came to the right with a direct punch, aimed at Spider-Man's face. He ducked.

Even as Spider-Man stood, tense and on guard, Daredevil stepped a safe distance back. When he spoke, his voice was hard.

"You have some sort of enhanced sense, that allows you to predict where I'm going to hurt you before I do."

Daredevil spoke it like it was fact. There was no point in trying to deny it. Spider-Man still felt oddly uncomfortable answering.

"Yeah. What's your point?"

The older vigilante didn't reply. Instead, he pulled something out of his pocket.

A blindfold.

He tossed it at Spider-Man. Peter caught it effortlessly, and examined it. It was made of a thick, black velvet, roughly cut along the edges. It was long enough that Peter would have no difficulty tying it around his eyes and behind his head in a secure knot, but not so long that the blindfold would be in his way.

"You have an enhanced sense that will allow you to fight without full access to the rest of your senses. Today, use it. Tomorrow, figure out how to keep it quiet."

Spider-Man tied the blindfold around the lenses on his suit. It was uncomfortable not being able to see. He felt on edge, nervous.

"Good."

Daredevil's voice came from his right. At some point, Daredevil had moved and he hadn't noticed. It didn't sit well with Peter.

Why was Daredevil so intent on helping him? Peter could count on one hand the people that had helped him because they genuinely wanted to help, not because they had an ulterior motive.

It made Peter nervous.

But Daredevil was a vigilante too. He dressed up in the mask, just the same as Spider-Man, and spent nights getting beat up to save lives, just like Spider-Man.

Yeah, Spider-Man would be cautious when it came to the guy. He'd had too many people not be what he thought they were to just trust. But Spider-Man wouldn't overwork his mind looking for evidence that Daredevil was helping Spider-Man for his own selfish gain.

"I'm going to attack you. No using your webs, no using your enhanced strength. Just defend."

That was all the warning Spider-Man got before his spider-sense was screaming at him to _move._

Peter jumped left, but a strong fist still clipped him in the shoulder.

He'd barely processed that, when the next fist came. This one he dodged.

After that, it was a flurry of movement, of barely missed hits and several painful additions to his bruised stomach. The fight stretched on for what felt like forever.

Never before had he missed his sight so much.

Never before had he been so grateful for his spider-sense.

It told him where the hits were coming from, the size of the object trying to hurt him. As the fight drew on, it seemed to sharpen, growing more and more precise.

He became water, fluidly dodging every hit, untouchable, was a point where Daredevil couldn't even get close to touching him.

But even with his enhanced senses, he began to grow tired. His already sloppy dodges became sloppier. The fight ended when Daredevil went in for a chokehold, and succeeded.

Both were breathing heavily, Spider-Man less so. Sweat still coated the hair under his mask and soaked through the suit. He looked like he'd gone in the shower still in his Spider-Man get-up and smelled like he'd crawled through the sewers.

Both those things had happened before. Not simultaneously.

Peter untied the blindfold, offering it to Daredevil. The man shoved his hand away.

"I don't want it. It would just be a constant reminder of how bad puberty smelled. Bring it with you next time. Don't forget."

He'd probably forget.

Daredevil didn't bother saying goodbye. He simply leaped into the shadows, and took off running across the rooftops of Hell's Kitchen.

Peter leaned up against a wall, shutting his eyes. He wondered if he could get away with just avoiding Daredevil for awhile. After all, he'd never been a fan of gym class. And having a teacher that literally dressed up as the devil? It brought a new definition to the word miserable.

The whole situation still left an uneasy feeling in Peter's stomach.

It wasn't just the fact that Daredevil was unsafe being involved with Spider-Man in any way. It also was a gut feeling. Something about the situation was strange, set off warning bells in his head. It was on the tip of Peter's tongue and he'd forgotten...

* * *

Not all of the Avengers were present in the conference room. Bruce wasn't and even though Thor was physically present, it was obvious that his mind was far away. The Asgardian stared blankly at one of the white walls, an uncharacteristically thoughtful look on his face.

The room was silent as Stark, Rogers, Barton, and Romanov watched the life-sized, holographic figure of Spider-Man fight Slick.

He danced around the villain with a gracefulness that almost made him look delicate, but with a strength that removed all imaginations of daintiness. Spider-Man didn't punch or kick or even elbow the enemy in the gut, but relied only on his webs. He used his enemy's strength against him.

The shapeshifter was different. It seamlessly moved from the distorted, twisted flesh of its human Iron Man, to the lithe, curvy figure of the Black Widow. Even as Spider-Man tied inescapable webs around the pretend Black Widow's figure, the shapeshifter effortlessly became the little girl.

Spider-Man's hit from the pretend Hulk was the most interesting.

One second, he was talking to the shapeshifter in the form of a woman. The next, the woman was the Hulk and Spider-Man was flying out the window.

The punch was too fast for the normal eye to see. Tony had had to slow the film down. Even then it took place in a second.

The video feed ended after Spider-Man shot out his web and pulled himself through a brick wall, the solid surface crumbling to bits of jagged rock.

There was silence as the Avengers mulled on what they'd seen.

Natasha spoke up first.

"His webs are not natural. You have all seen the devices on his wrists."

The rest of the group nodded. Thor, who was staring at the wall, deep in thought, didn't.

Tony grew on her thought.

"So go for the silly string shooters on his wrists. Then he won't be able to cover us in the stuff." He stroked his goatee. "I could do something with that. Create some short-wave EMP to set them on the fritz."

There were another few seconds of silence.

Tony offered a thought.

"I was wondering why the shapeshifter had turned back into a human right as it was about to smash me. And I have a concept."

Most of the eyes turned to him.

Thor's didn't.

"So theoretically, shapeshifting takes energy. After all, you're changing your very molecules. Of course, my question is what is the shapeshifter's power source, but that's not important. The important part is how capable the power source is."

Nobody bothered hiding their confused looks. Tony elaborated.

"The shapeshifter ran out of energy, so it had to shift back to it's true form, or, _her_ true form."

Clint was unimpressed.

"So the shapeshifter is a she. How is that supposed to help us find Spider-Man?"

Tony rolled his eyes.

"It's supposed to help us find the shapeshifter. And not like you have any ideas, Bird Brain."

Clint looked Tony dead in the eye.

"Spider-Man's reflexes were not good enough for the Hulk."

Any and all movement stopped. It was a deadly suggestion, even if Dr. Banner wasn't present. Steve looked up from the file he was reading, Natasha's gaze grew more focused. Tony leaned back in his chair.

The comment even managed to pull Thor from his thoughts, and the Asgardian's face went deadly serious.

"If I understand what you are suggesting, Hawkeye, I must ask you to refrain from such thought. Dr. Banner is a noble man of much courage, but I doubt he will take well to such risky methods."

Clint put his hands behind his head. He flopped his feet on the table, a deceptively easy look on his weathered face.

"I wasn't suggesting anything. It was just simply an observation."

Thor suddenly stood up, his chair flying back at a speed that was far from natural.

"What has become of you? You have gone from brave, honorable heroes, to fools! Fools that believe that every power on earth, any being on your simple planet, can be controlled! Your obsession over the Spider-Man is bordering on madness!"

Thor's voice was not loud. In fact, it was uncharacteristically low. Dangerously low. It vibrated with an energy that crackled and fizzed, like electricity.

The entire room was a broken power line, just waiting for someone to come blundering through, and step on it.

Both Clint and Natasha's hands went straight to their pockets, where their guns were tucked. Steve tensed, waiting for even the slightest threatening movement from Thor, and Tony poised his finger over a red and gold metal cuff circling his wrist.

Thor observed this, and his shoulders stooped.

"Forgive me, friends. I speak in haste and without thought."

The Asgardian looked his age, as he had more often than not in the recent past. He fetched his chair from its spot on the other side of the room, and dropped into it. It creaked in a way plastic conference room swivel chairs usually do not.

There was a tense silence.

Eventually, Steve took care of the situation. He stood up.

"I'm going to take the report to Fury. Keep the ideas coming. This Spider-Man thing is dragging on much too long."

He paused, his exhausted face studying each Avenger. Eventually Steve stood up, pushing his chair under the table and gathering the file in front of him in his hands.

"Dismissed."

* * *

The rest of Peter's day passed uneventfully. He finished his Spider-Man rounds, went back to the Tower, and was there a whole two minutes before dinner. SUSANNA spent a while bantering about nothing, and Peter went to sleep.

The next day came and went by just as fast. Peter had his second lesson with Daredevil. It had gone as before, Peter being blindfolded, using his spider-sense to detect and block hits, and fighting until they were both exhausted.

The atmosphere had become more comfortable. Not necessarily _friendly_ , but comfortable. There was even the occasional comment in between jab and kick.

The third day (the second full day) of Young Minds was almost as uneventful as the last two. There was only one thing that stood out.

Peter's Aunt May called.

Dr. Banner had come to his room, holding his phone, with his Aunt May's number displayed on the transparent screen.

Guiltily, Peter realized that it was the third day of the Young Minds internship, and Peter had yet to talk to his Aunt May. Peter's own phone had been off for the most part (his normal phone, not SUSANNA's flip phone). His aunt had been unable to contact him.

He'd taken Dr. Banner's Stark Phone and put it to his ear.

"Uhh… Hi Aunt May."

"Peter!"

The relief was evident in his aunt's tone. Peter's guilt doubled.

"I'm sorry Aunt May, I forgot. I really shouldn't have-"

"No, don't apologize. I know you're busy and having fun. It's just good to hear your voice."

Peter smiled, a warm feeling in his chest.

"It's good to hear your voice too."

"You call at least a few times a week, you understand young man?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good. Now I'm sure you're busy, so I'll leave you be. I love you."

Peter paused before answering. He knew his aunt loved him, but she wasn't the type of person to say it directly. It was unusual that she had done so, and showed how much she was actually missing him.

"I love you too Aunt May. Don't forget that, alright?"

His aunt laughed, a rarer sound after Uncle Ben's death.

"I won't Peter. Goodbye."

"Bye."

With a click, the line went dead.

This was why he put on the costume every day. This was why, even though the Avengers pursuit was difficult, and downright painful, Peter kept his identity a secret. Peter always knew, when he went home, there'd be someone to go home to. Somebody that loved him, and showed it by making pancakes and only complaining minimally when Peter put the 'American flag' in the washer.

He was Spider-Man because he had a responsibility to his aunt, to keep her safe.

Peter had glanced at Dr. Banner. The man had an unreadable look on his face. Sadness? Understanding? Anger? Maybe it was a mix of all three. It disappeared the second Peter looked Dr. Banner's way.

He had given the phone back, mumbling a polite 'thank you' to Dr. Banner, then retreated to the safety of his room.

* * *

That night, Daredevil started to teach actual moves. He didn't give names to them, only demonstrated the proper stance, executed the move, and ordered Peter to do it.

Peter had no problem learning moves. He easily learned them, with only a few corrections from his instructor. His mind and body seemed to be almost made to fight. The many high kicks Daredevil used in his fighting Peter found especially helpful. It fit his abilities.

Then the third day of Young Minds was done and Peter moved on to the fourth.

Nothing happened the next day. Or the next day. Or the day after that. Before Peter knew it, he'd spent a full week at the Tower, it was Friday again, and nothing had happened.

* * *

Peter woke up Friday morning, staring at the ceiling. Everything was too peaceful. It made him nervous.

It was the eerie calm before the storm. The figurative ocean waters were oddly still, the sky deceptively blue. But you could taste the potential energy on your tongue, feel it on your fingers.

Peter would see the Avengers again. He didn't know when, but he could feel it coming. It would be a confrontation that would change his entire world.

He groggily rolled out of bed and glared at the pale sky out his window.

It was early. Every day that week, Peter had woken up early. It was nice having access to a lab, but the only time he had access to a lab with none of the other students in there was early in the morning.

After the first day, Hannah and Mason had started staying away from the lab before seven. Maybe they felt uncomfortable with Peter, or maybe they felt uncomfortable with each other. Either way, Peter was thankful. It gave him an opportunity.

Ten minutes later, Peter was dressed and ready to go. He left his rooms, and went straight to the lab.

As they had every day before, the lights flickered on and the AI announced his presence.

He went to the temperature-controlled storage bins up against the back wall. Number three held Peter's project. He began lifting materials and equipment off the shelves and onto his corner table.

It was when Peter had spread out his project, that Dr. Banner entered the lab.

Peter had heard the older man's footsteps, but had ignored them. The scientist walked the halls every morning. It wasn't until the lab doors slid open that Peter realized he would have company.

"Hi Peter." The man sounded way too chipper for five-thirty A.M.

"Hi." Peter hoped his short response would send a 'leave me alone' message to the scientist.

Either Dr. Banner was just socially clueless as Peter or he was ignoring Peter's silent hint.

Dr. Banner came up to the table, observing over Peter's shoulder.

The bandages were finished. The string had been weaved together in long strips about two inches wide, and the bottom side had been embedded with cotton, just like super-long bandaids.

Peter was now testing them, soaking large amounts of water into the cotton padding along the bottom side, then wrapping them tightly around his waist. He'd gone through basic testing, trying basic range of movement, such as jumping, walking, reaching. The bandages had held their tight grip successfully and the water had stayed contained on the inside of the wrappings.

Peter had been about to try some more strenuous movements, such as backflips and handsprings, when Dr. Banner had walked in.

He couldn't test them for their true purpose if Dr. Banner was watching. That would raise some questions, such as 'where did you learn to do a back handspring', and 'why are you hanging upside-down from the ceiling'. Neither of those were questions Peter wanted to answer.

It meant Peter would have to work on something else.

Peter reached for the woven fabric, collecting it in his hands, and began to store it in its plastic bag, but Dr. Banner stopped him.

"May I see the finished product?"

Reluctantly, Peter nodded. Then realizing that wasn't considered a polite answer, he gave a verbal affirmative.

"Oh. Um...Yeah."

Dr. Banner took the soft bandages in his hands. His eyes squinted as he studied the tight weaving of the bandages. He stretched it between his hands. An eyebrow rose as it seamlessly adjusted to the change in distance. His finger felt along the inside of the cotton. The cotton had been denser when the bandage was not stretched out, but the layer of cotton was still thick.

Peter watched him, twisting his fingers, chewing on the edge of his lip. He just wanted the fabric back in the safety of his own care, away from the observant eyes of Dr. Banner.

A small part of him was curious. What would Dr. Banner think about it? Peter may have wanted to keep the bandages safe and away from the scientist, but he still was curious about Dr. Banner's opinion.

Eventually, Dr. Banner looked up from the white fabric. There was an unreadable look in his eye.

Peter hated that. Very rarely did he meet people with unreadable looks in their eyes. Maybe it was some extension of his spider powers, maybe he's had it since birth, but Peter always found that he had a general idea of what a person was thinking based on the look in their eyes. Very rarely could he not tell the general direction of a person's thoughts.

The unreadable look faded away quickly, and was replaced with something Peter often saw, but never saw pointed towards himself: admiration.

"They turned out very well. Have you tested their durability and longevity yet?"

"A little."

"Tell me what the results are whenever you get them."

Dr. Banner looked like he wanted to say more, but he hesitated. He pushed his glasses up his nose. It was something Peter associated as a nervous habit in the scientist. He did it whenever something made him uncomfortable or uncertain.

"Peter… you couldn't be sharing this among the other students because it would be unfair, but if you would like, I would love to help you develop any other projects you have in mind."

Peter was surprised. Yeah, his bandages were new and the thread he had used to create them was new, but we're they really good enough to warrant an offer like that.

Dr. Banner was a renowned scientist. His work was treasured and shared all over the world. Why would he offer to be lab assistant?

Not just a lab assistant. A teacher. A mentor. Peter may have been smart, but he wasn't well-known. There was so much Dr. Banner could teach him.

But what would happen if the scientist got close?

He'd die. Peter knew what happened to anyone that got close. He didn't want the death of a famous scientist on his conscious.

How could Peter refuse Dr. Banner's offer? That would bring a lot of questions. It would possibly put the inquisitive scientist in more danger than if he was close to Peter.

There was no way out of it. Peter would have to accept Dr. Banner's offer.

He definitely wanted to. Who in their right mind would refuse that offer?

But Peter's responsibility hung heavy.

Yes, Peter would accept Dr. Banner's offer, but he'd have to be extra careful.

For Dr. Banner's sake, Peter did his best to look excited as possible.

"I'd love to! Um. I mean… I'd really appreciate the help."

The enthusiasm in his voice sounded believable even to Peter. Good.

Dr. Banner smiled. His shoulders relaxed and he suddenly looked relieved.

"Okay. Where do you want to start?"

And that was the third eventful part of Peter's mostly uneventful week.

* * *

 **I'll try to finish replying to chapter fourteen's reviews later today, but no promises. I hope you enjoyed!**


	16. Chapter 16

There was a nasty feeling in Peter's stomach that only got bigger as week one at Young Minds became week two.

It was dread. It coiled and slithered like a snake, sliding up and down his intestines, into his esophagus, choking his words. Sometimes it creeped into his mind and spoiled his thoughts, injecting fear and doubt into innocent memories and ideas.

Nobody should ever have to live in dread of what was to come.

The Avengers still hadn't come. Neither had Slick.

But they would.

The dread came from anticipation of what was to come. The Avengers would fight him again. Last time, he'd only escaped because someone else had helped him. This time, Peter wouldn't get so lucky.

He wasn't sure if he could evade capture. Oh, he'd try. He would try until there was nothing left in his body, until he was so worn out he was almost dead.

But he wasn't sure if it would be enough.

That Tuesday night, Peter found himself fighting harder than normal in his training session with Daredevil. Every punch was dangerous, every kick downright lethal. He was a tsunami, swift and sudden, with a precision that was powerful and deadly. Daredevil may have been a gifted fighter, one of the best Peter had ever faced, but even he had difficulty defending with Spider-Man's increasing levels of ferocity.

The frustration, the _dread_ that Peter couldn't express in words presented itself as a fiery anger. It expressed itself through the kicks and jabs Peter had learned with Daredevil.

Every hit _had_ to count. For his mom and dad. For his uncle. For _Gwen._

"Spider-Man, _stop!"_

The red haze that had filled Peter's vision and blocked out any other thought disappeared.

Spider-Man had Daredevil's neck in one hand, the bright red of the costume contrasting with Daredevil's black. Daredevil's voice had come out choked. Peter could smell blood he knew wasn't his.

Horror and disgust erupted like a volcano in his stomach, nauseating the partially digested steak he'd had for dinner.

He dropped his grip, the guilty hand falling limp at his side, and took several steps back, until he was a far enough distance away that Daredevil wouldn't think him a threat.

Daredevil sagged, the chest-high cement wall the only thing keeping him up.

"I'm sorry, man, I don't know what-"

The older vigilante held up a hand. Peter shut his mouth. He was unsure what to do. How did you apologize for choking someone like any common villain would?

' _Villain,'_ the accusing part of Peter's mind hissed.

He kept quiet, waiting for Daredevil to speak. Daredevil more fully against the wall, head tilted back slightly. Bright red blood from a busted lip slid down his pale chin and dripped into the dark fabric of his costume.

The older man sighed, and slid down to the ground.

"You wanna talk about it?"

Daredevil's voice always had a gravelly, rasping tone to it, that made Peter think of very scary rocks.

That had disappeared. Now Daredevil's voice sounded normal. He could've been any person Peter had met on the streets.

The vigilante suddenly seemed more human.

Hesitantly, Spider-Man took a seat on the ground too. The dark rooftop Daredevil had chosen as their 'training grounds' was slightly damp. The moisture soaked through the thin fabric of the suit and brought goosebumps to Peter's skin. Sitting down made the towering buildings on every side seem even bigger, like humongous tombstones in a graveyard for giants. For as long as Peter could remember, there'd always been lights shining through windows and from streetlamps at night, comforting and surrounding Peter. They'd been the stars of the city, the promises of something magical if you could only reach for it.

They seemed especially far away that night.

There were several feet between Daredevil and Peter. Peter had no intention of moving closer. He found he couldn't trust his own hands.

"You want to talk about it?" Daredevil said again.

Did he?

Did Peter want to let the fears he'd been hiding deep inside of himself out, for another person to hear? He didn't think he wanted to, didn't think he should.

It seemed as if speaking the fears would only make it all the more real, all the more present. Perhaps saying the fear out loud would cause the Avengers to magically appear on the silent rooftop, weapons at ready.

Weapons not just ready for him, but Daredevil too. It felt as if speaking about the fear would put the older vigilante in danger too.

"I-"

Peter may have not wanted to speak his fears, may have not thought he should, but some feral, primitive part of him was attempting to push it out into the open anyways. Yet the words were so difficult to get out. They caught in his throat, snagged on his uncertainty. He didn't even know how to say it.

"I'm-"

Daredevil was patient. He didn't move, didn't bother rushing Peter. He just waited.

The words didn't come.

After a forever of silence, Peter just shrugged helplessly.

Daredevil's lips formed a grim smile.

Peter wasn't sure who the grimness was directed at, but he knew it wasn't himself.

The older man stood up.

"Follow me."

Hell's Kitchen's vigilante rolled his shoulders, and then took off running. He tensed and leaped from one edge of the building to the other, landing in a roll. Then he was running again.

Peter sprung up, swiftly and silently following after Daredevil. While Daredevil's feet made light sounds as they hit the rooftops, Peter's were soundless. He ran after Daredevil, jumping the gap with no effort.

After that, it was a silent dance across the rooftops of Hell's Kitchen, red and black mixing with the shadows, twisting and diving, the chaotic music of the city wrapping gently around them. Daredevil was traveling fast. Spider-Man had no problem keeping up.

Daredevil stopped on the rooftop of a wide, one-story building. He dived into a dark alley to the side. Peter followed.

They stood before a solid metal door with no handle, but a key hole. Daredevil fished a key out of his pocket (pockets? He wanted pockets)

He unlocked the door and pushed it open.

It was a faded boxing gym, with worn-out mats and peeling posters barely hanging onto the walls. It smelled of sweat and chemicals so strongly, Peter couldn't help but hold his breath as he entered. There was the faint buzz of a giant, boxy air conditioner. Cool air drifted about the room, cool enough that Peter could feel the breeze through his suit.

The stench, the cool air, the faded mats, and the peeling posters were all familiar to Peter. It took a moment for him to recognise it. When he did, he turned to Daredevil.

"This is where you took me after the fight with Slick."

He decided not to mention the Avengers.

Daredevil's masked face was looking at Peter. His head was tilted to the side, his entire body eerily still. He was studying Peter's reaction.

"Yes."

The older vigilante's voice held no emotion. It was even devoid of the usual anger, the fieriness, that Peter had become accustomed to.

"What's so special about it?"

Daredevil turned away and started towards a faded red punching bag.

"This is where I train. Do your thing, just don't damage any of the equipment."

He left Spider-Man alone to mull on that statement.

Peter studied the gym a second time. It didn't look like anything significant, but neither would Midtown High to Daredevil. This place was important to Daredevil.

And he'd trusted Peter with it.

Peter's hands still tingled with something that strangely felt like disgust. He could still feel his hands wrapped around Daredevil's neck and it _disgusted_ him. He was disgusted with himself.

If Peter was disgusted with himself, surely Daredevil was repulsed twice as much. After all, Daredevil was the one who had been injured by the person he'd been trying to help.

Daredevil had every right to be angry at Spider-Man. He had every right to go straight to the Avengers and tell them everything he knew about Spider-Man.

Instead he had trusted Peter.

"You just gonna stand there, or you gonna workout?" Daredevil called from across the gym.

For a third time, Peter looked around the dark boxing gym. He saw it not as a random location or as someplace that was important to someone else, but as an invitation, mailed to one Spider-Man, as an invitation of friendship. After all, vigilantes were lonely. Secret identities meant keeping a low profile.

Spider-Man chose a sturdy punching bag, and began to work on his form, lightly jabbing at the hard material.

It was kind of nice having someone that cared. It made all of Peter's problems seem less of a burden. Suddenly the dread that had been living in his stomach was not as defined.

But even as Peter indulged himself in thoughts of having a person to trust, reminders of Uncle Ben, Gwen, and numerous other failures hung heavy in the back of his mind like ominous storm clouds.

The next day Slick came back.

 **Okay, because this is so extremely short and took much too long, I'm putting up a one-shot related to this story that takes place after it's finished and was technically intended for Fourth of July…**

 **Make sure to follow me as an author so you don't miss any other Infiltration-related one-shots I may post!**


	17. Chapter 17

Slick found Spider-Man first this time.

He'd been dealing with crime in Queens, near his home. It was the standard mugging, the criminal webbed to a wall, the woman's scattered possessions gathered up, and some reassuring of panicked civilian.

He'd turned around and there she stood.

A child. It was a face he knew too well, the same face that had turned from him and leaped off the top of the World Trade center. The smile was distorted, ugly. It didn't belong on a child's face.

Her tone was innocent.

"Hi Spider-Man."

The little girl took off running straight towards the street.

Spider-Man stared for a moment, wide-eyed, before dashing out of the shadow-filled alleyway, into the late afternoon light.

For a small child, she was moving fast. Slick leaped off the sidewalk, straight towards an oncoming bus.

The bus horn blared, the driver yanked on the brake, and Spider-Man's web pulled Slick back just in time.

Why did the shapeshifting alien not only have the ability to shapeshift into sweet, tiny little girls, but also give the sweet tiny little girls any damage it got while looking like them?

Slick snapped backwards, flying off her feet, and straight towards Spider-Man.

Spider-Man waited until the sudden impact of the small girl/Slick shoved the air out of his lungs, before leaping up ten feet of the air, and landing against the rough brick wall of the nearest building. He looked down below his feet.

Slick had not shapeshifted. She was looking up at him, eyes wide, a deceptively innocent look on her face.

She took off running again.

Spider-Man cursed aloud, ignoring SUSANNA'S alarmed 'what?' from the phone tucked in his costume.

He leaped from building to building, remaining a safe enough distance away that she couldn't hurt him, but close enough to keep Slick from harming the girl who's body she had shapeshifted into.

The rush-hour traffic beeped and honked, roared and snorted. People talked, shouted, laughed. There were alarmed cries at a little girl running alone down the sidewalk, and the _click_ of phones taking pictures of Spider-Man.

Spider-Man registered none of it. He had developed a tunnel vision, with Slick the center of it. With grim determination, he pursued the shape shifter.

For awhile, she just ran. She didn't grow tired, didn't slow down, just steadily ran, until Spider-Man had lost track of the amount of streets he'd leaped over and where he was in the maze of streets.

She stopped suddenly, and shapeshifted.

It was a big, blue beast with wild eyes and even wilder hair. It leaped immediately at the nearest civilians, two rich men in business suits.

Spider-Man dove down, one hand attaching a web to the nearest skyscraper, the other poised over his webshooter, ready.

Slick let out a roar. She swung long claws at one man. He cried out. There was the sickening sound of flesh ripping. The man fell limp on the sidewalk.

Spider-Man was there a second later, just in time to pull the second man away from the monster. The creature's claws raked across Spider-Man's arm instead.

He gritted his teeth. Burgundy red blossomed on top of the bright red of his suit.

 _Thwip._ A web attached to Slick's chest. Spider-Man swung forward and rammed his feet into Slick's head. He quickly hooked himself to the side of the skyscraper Slick had chosen to fight in front of.

The monster's head snapped back. It roared in fury, and leaped up. But Spider-Man was too high up. Slick landed on the pavement, fuming.

By this time, the majority of the civilians had fled the area. The business man that Spider-Man had saved had disappeared among the crowd, but there was still the first businessman Slick had injured. The tall, gray-haired man was groaning in pain. Spider-Man could see the man's eyes fluttering open and shut.

When Slick's distorted blue head turned towards the figure curled up on the pavement, Spider-Man knew, with a sinking feeling in his chest, that he could only be on passive-defensive so long. The city was too full of life. The shapeshifter had too many abilities. There was too much at stake.

He dove from his perch, slicing through the air with precision, straight at the monster.

Half a second before Spider-Man was on the monster's shoulders, it whirled around, claws out.

Spider-Man jerked. He landed on the pavement, right besides the creature. A large blue tail whipped at his legs. He jumped and flipped.

How was he supposed to stop a villain that could shapeshift into the Hulk? From what Peter had seen of video footage of the disaster, Slick hadn't been able to hold the shape long, but it was still long enough to do humongous damage.

How could he stop this villain at all?

Slick suddenly changed shape. She was a slim male figure, who immediately took off running, straight into the street, full of cars and empty of people.

A large oil truck sat packed among the other vehicles, it's passenger door still hanging open, the engine rumbling softly, and a half-eaten sandwich on the dashboard. Slick jumped into the cabin and slammed the door. She shapeshifted into the little girl, and with a wicked smile on her petite face, pressed the gas.

" _No!"_

Spider-Man was barely aware of the fact that the mangled, desperate word had come from his own lips.

 _Thwip-Thwip._

The passenger side window shattered. Peter's flew headfirst into the cabin. He wrapped his arms around little-girl Slick, and shoved her through. She tumbled to the cement, regaining her balance, and rolled underneath a bus to the safety of the sidewalk beyond.

Spider-Man wasn't so lucky. He got a glimpse of the back-end of a bright red minivan, before the truck's cabin crumpled, wrapping Peter in a web of metal.

For a few seconds, everything was chaos. Screeching, grinding, cracking sounds filled his ears. SUSANNA's alarmed cries were a tiny voice in the distance. His stomach dropped as the truck tilted, and planted into the ground. He shut his eyes tight. Pieces of the windshield peppered his face.

Everything was still.

One eye opened, then the other. There was a piercing ringing in Spider-Man's ears that gradually faded. The whole world felt off-kilter. The small cabin was spinning.

He was upside down. Cautiously, he wriggled around, until his feet were where the drivers side window had been and his head was below the passenger's side window.

Spider-Man climbed out of the cabin. There was a _burning_ smell in the air, the nasty one that meant something bad. His dizzy head struggled to form thoughts. He'd smelled it before, twice, both times when a truck- no, an oil truck had overturned and was about to-

He vaulted out of the cabin. The oil truck exploded. Flames licked at his feet, went high enough to singe the fringes of his costume. Spider-Man rolled onto the cement, the opposite side from where Slick had gone. He got to his feet and turned around.

Black smoke polluted the air in big, ominous clouds. Fire devoured what remained of the fuel in the oil truck and moved on to the nearby cars.

"Peter! You have to listen!"

SUSANNA's voice was panicked.

"What is it?" He croaked.

"You're at the Tower."

Peter pivoted and gazed upon the looming skyscraper towering above him, the large A fastened to the top, casting a shadow over his little form. He could hear the sound of Iron Man's thrusters, see the red spark high in the sky growing closer and closer.

Captain America rounded the corner, mouth set in a grim line. There was a thump as the Black Widow leaped onto the top of an abandoned car, a gun in each hand, a little smile on her face. In the corner of Spider-Man's eye, he saw a slight movement from above. Hawkeye was poised and ready. Iron Man landed on the sidewalk, a mere five feet away from Spider-Man. Peter's heart rate sped up at the glowing white sight of the repulsor.

It was only when the Asgardian prince, Thor himself landed, that Spider-Man realized that there would be no way out of this one. The face he'd so carefully hidden behind the mask would be revealed.

Thor had, for once, an unreadable look in his eye. Spider-Man wished there'd been some glimpse of the sympathy he'd saw last time they met.

From behind Captain America, Slick, a little girl again, waved cheerfully, before skipping around the corner and out of sight.

The monster.

"Spider-Man." America's hero was grave. "We don't want to take you in by force. Please, just a name. All we need is your name and SHIELD will let you continue your work. This is for your safety and the safety of everyone around you. Vigilantism is power unchecked. We can't stand for that. Will you surrender?"

Just his name and it all could be over. Spider-Man couldn't say it wasn't tempting. He couldn't say his lips didn't begin forming the beginning of a P. The tiredness all through his bones screamed for it to be over.

But Aunt May. She was all he had left. His name wasn't just his. The last part, Parker, belonged to his aunt too.

Captain America talked to them about power unchecked. Why were the Avengers different? Sure, they did good. Peter wouldn't say he wasn't thankful for them saving New York from aliens. But how were they different? Who made sure their power wasn't abused?

"You're injured," the Captain America pointed out.

This would be the fight Spider-Man would lose. This would be the fight _Peter_ would lose. He was the losing side. But he couldn't give up now.

Spider-Man forced a relaxed posture. He ignored the pain. He tilted his head to the side a little bit, and placed his hands on his hips.

"Injury? Nah. I could do this all day."

For a split second, Spider-Man even believed it.

But the gravity of the situation took over as the Avengers shifted their weapons.

"Is that a no?"

Spider-Man kept his voice cool, made sure it was respectful. He hadn't done anything wrong, and he wouldn't do something as little as sound rude. There would be no reason for the Avengers to pursue him, other than their concern of what he did in the future.

"Yeah, that's a no."

For a millisecond, Captain America looked regretful, but the grim look quickly replaced it.

"Okay."

They all moved at once.

* * *

Bruce's little motorcycle puttered it's way through the abandoned cars, weaving in between bumper to bumper traffic, and making its way farther from the chaos behind him.

He was in the eye of the storm. Bruce could still hear the honks and screeches of chaotic traffic and the piercing sirens behind him. Ahead, there was billowing smoke, the clashing of metal, and the occasional taunt of a certain vigilante. Bruce himself was in a little pocket of deadly calm.

It was uncharacteristic for there to be no life in any part of New York City. If you ignored the distant sounds of chaos, you could hear a radio playing soft music from an empty car, or an abandoned phone ringing. Those were the only signs that people had been there at all.

The only other time Bruce had seen the city this way was right after the Battle of New York, before everyone realized that the danger was gone, before the survivors emerged from partially crushed buildings, from underneath tipped over cars, and brought back the sound that made up the city.

The lack of sound was eerie. Usually, it would've set Bruce on edge. He barely would've been able to still his shaking hands. Keeping his heartbeat regular would've been a struggle.

Now, everything was different.

Spider-Man. Peter Parker. New York's vigilante wasn't just a faceless hero, who appeared at the right moment and ceased to exist when he wasn't needed. Spider-Man had a life. He had an identity. The self sacrificing hero deserved at the very least, _respect_.

Bruce's mind was united and decided. There was no anxiety about his decision. It was the right one. There was no bellowing and thrashing from the Hulk, because Bruce and the Hulk had come to an understanding.

Bruce had watched Spider-Man chase the familiar little girl through the streets of New York. He'd watched the villain lead Spider-Man straight to the Avengers doorstep. He'd listened to the Avengers plan, and with a sinking feeling in his chest, realized Peter had no way out of this one, unless Bruce intervened.

Unless the Hulk intervened. Bruce had thought, and still firmly believed, that the Hulk wasn't good. He was a source of destruction, of desolation.

But maybe this time the Hulk could do some good.

Bruce pulled his motorcycle to a stop right in front of the fight.

It was chaos. Glimpses of red; the reflective red of Tony's costume and the shield, the eye-catching red of Peter's costume, the dark liquid red that spattered off of Spider-Man wherever he went.

Black, charred streaks from Tony's weapons and Clint's explosive weapons were scribbled across the pavement like crayon marks made by a toddler.

The worst part was the gathering thunderstorm looming over their heads. Lighting crackled and sizzled. The atmosphere was full of electricity.

Bruce ignored all of it. He knew the authority his condition granted. All it would take was his presence, and the chaos would freeze.

It did. It was almost comical how quickly the fight came to a stop. Captain America had glanced in Bruce's direction when he'd heard the footsteps. Eyes widened slightly and Steve barely managed to catch his shield. He stepped away from the fight.

Clint and Natasha caught on next. An arrow whizzed inches by Bruce's head. It exploded behind him. Clint looked in Bruce's direction and let out a curse.

"Nat." Clint called.

Natasha saw Bruce. There was a glimpse of fear in her eyes, before it was replaced with her usual apathetic, blank face. She stepped away from Pe- Spider-Man. Bruce felt guilt bubble up in his stomach. The Hulk had almost killed Natasha on the helicarrier. She had every reason to fear.

And he was using that fear to his advantage.

Iron Man and Thor were the last to realize his presence. Thor had noticed the sudden decrease in fighting out of the corner of his eye. He looked down from the increasingly black sky. The electricity in the air stopped suddenly, like someone had flicked a switch.

Tony gradually realized everybody else had stopped fighting. Iron Man's mechanic head turned.

"What?" The genius asked.

He saw Bruce.

"Bruce? What are you doing here?"

Bruce shrugged.

"I got tired of watching you fight. I've made a decision."

Bruce looked up at Spider-Man. He didn't need to see behind the mask to know the young vigilante was very confused and very scared. It was bad enough having to fight the Avengers, but having the same person he'd been living right next door with suddenly confront him and the Avengers, and the Avengers know who he is, on first name basis? That was a whole new level of panic.

"Spider-Man. Why don't you come stand by me?"

"I think I'll stay up here. Didn't your mom teach you not to go with strangers?"

Bruce kept his voice even and firm. He did his best to put as much honesty in possible in his tone.

"Please, just over on this side of the street. There's no trap."

Hesitant. Peter came hesitantly, weary and ready for someone to jump out at him and capture him.

Nothing happened, other than the Avengers increasingly concerned faces.

Bruce swallowed. This was the moment. The turning point. If he did this, the Avengers wouldn't accept him any more. Tony wouldn't be absolutely thrilled to spend lab time with his science buddy after a betrayal like this.

But he spoke anyway.

"Its simple. If any of you attempt using physical means to figure out who Spider-Man is anymore, the Big Guy is going to visit. I don't like the fact that we are treating a hero like a villain, and you guys don't like it when I'm angry. Am I clear?"

They were shocked. Angry. Tony was hurt. He lashed out.

"What drug are you on, Bruce? Why'd you go all pacifist on us? Why are you even here in the first place? You should be babysitting, unless we'd called a Code Green. Last time I checked, Cap over here hadn't called the Code Green."

"Dr. Banner," Natasha said calmly. "This really isn't your call."

"It is this time."

Peter may not have much of a mouth, but Spider-Man certainly did.

"Um… not that I'm not a big fan of the fact that you've just saved my face… what are you going to do to stop the Aven-"

"I'm the Hulk." Bruce interrupted tersely.

Spider-Man went silent, stunned.

Bruce would be alone. He may have just saved Peter Parker, but the teen wouldn't want to be in the same room as him after that little piece of information. The Avengers themselves were already less than pleased with him.

That was okay. He'd done lonely before.

There was silence. Five sets of eyes bore holes in his head.

He shifted uncomfortably.

"Well. I'll be on my way, I guess."

Iron Man flew up, and down, landing a mere four feet from Bruce. Tony stepped out of the suit. He was angry.

But hurt. Tony was angry because he was hurt.

Tony didn't speak. He just stared, directly at Bruce for a moment, two moments, black eyes furious. Then he abruptly turned around and stepped back in the suit. There was a _clank_ as the metal closed around him. The repulsors fired up with a roar. Tony blasted up into the sky, weaving around Avengers Tower to the front entrance, and out of sight.

Reluctantly, Rogers followed, shooting Bruce a disapproving look, before turning his back and walking down the sidewalk, around the corner.

Natasha and Clint left next. They didn't even spare Bruce a glance, but their body language said more than enough. Natasha's hand was on the gun holstered to her side, and Clint didn't pack up his bow, even though the fight was over.

Thor surprised Bruce.

The Asgardian didn't look Dr. Banner directly in the eye. He seemed almost… ashamed. It was a strange look on the towering, regally dressed prince.

Thor gave a slight bow.

"Thank you."

Then he raised his hammer above his head, whipped it around, and soared up into the sky, leaving a gust of wind in his wake.

That left Spider-Man.

Bruce turned.

Spider-Man was a red dot in the distance, swinging from web to web. Bruce watched him gradually grow smaller and smaller, until he was fully out of sight.

At some point, the two of them would have to talk. As much as he wished he could leave it alone, pretend he was oblivious to Spider-Man's identity, Bruce knew he couldn't. The kid deserved to know.

Most likely, Peter suspected. It was too much of a coincidence to ignore.

* * *

Peter stared at the white ceiling, ten feet above his head. He watched the wooden blades of the fan spin in endless circles, listened to the faint _whir_ of the motor without really hearing it at all.

"-no way he doesn't know, Peter. The guilt was pressing too much on his conscience. He did something about it. But what if he changes his mind? What if he decides to tell the Avengers about it?"

SUSANNA'S conversation was just like the sound of the ceiling fan above Peter's head. He heard her talk, he grunted at the right places, but everything she said might as well have been the endless drone of the ceiling fan's motor.

"mhm."

"I mean, now that he's kind of committed to this, there's no reason he should change his mind, but what if he changes his mind? And how did he find out? I would've noticed him coming in your room at the wrong moment, or noticing an injury. I watch you all the time. Maybe he saw…"

At that point, Peter zoned out entirely. The other thoughts in his head were too loud. They bounced around like someone had dropped an entire bucket of those little rubber balls onto cement. He couldn't keep up with them, couldn't get them to slow down.

Why did Dr. Banner do it?

The man had sacrificed a lot. The look of betrayal on Iron Man's face, that cold, hard, lost look, like he'd been betrayed before and had expected it to happen again. Dr. Banner had lost a very valuable friend for that, and a very very valuable ally.

The Hulk. Suddenly Dr. Banner's nervous tendencies made so much more sense. The hushed up court cases, the scientist's disappearance for years on end. Rumors flew around the Hulk and most of them indicated that Dr. Banner had very little control over the creature.

If that was so, why was Dr. Banner in New York? It would be endangering millions of people. Even more so, why was Dr. Banner chaperoning a bunch of high school kids, when at any moment he could turn into a weightlifting green bean in desperate need of anger management classes?

"Peter have you heard a single word I said?" SUSANNA snapped.

Why did his personal AI have to be a mother hen of sass and additude?

She didn't bother waiting for the answer because she already knew it.

"What I asked, was, do you want me to threaten Dr. Banner?"

Peter blanched.

"Threaten the Hulk?"

SUSANNA huffed.

"Well I at least want to act a little ominous. You know, darken the lights in his room, use a deep voice. Interrogation methods. Promise him to make him rue the day he ever met you if he even so much as says the word Peter out loud.

He shook his head.

"No. Absolutely not. I do not want to be the vigilante known as the one with the female friend that could so easily be mistaken as an overprotective mother."

SUSANNA did her best pouty voice.

"Not even a little death threat?"

"You can't kill the Hulk. You don't even have a body."

"I'll kill him with sarcasm."

Peter pretended to ponder this for a moment.

"That may actually work. If everything doesn't go to plan, we can destroy the most powerful member of the Avengers with _sarcasm_."

"Go to bed, mijo. You're killing me."

He offered a toothy grin in the direction of the ceiling.

"With sarcasm?"

"Sleep. Now."

* * *

 _The little girl was back. This time, they were in the kitchen. She sat on the counter, legs swinging back and forth, something that looked suspiciously like one of Aunt May's triangle-shaped brownies clutched in her tiny fist. Slick took a big bite. Crumbs exploded from her mouth and dotted the floor in a random pattern. She smacked her lips._

" _You're sweet Aunt May makes some very good brownies." Peter hated how malevolent her voice sounded. "Do you know the recipe?"_

 _Peter kept silent. He was in his Spider-Man costume again,maskless. He stood in the doorway, hesitant to enter, like he was the intruder in his kitchen, not her._

" _You might want to learn it from her, before she is killed by your stubbornness."_

 _Peter had enough. There were some things he wanted to know._

" _Why did I forget this? Why did I forget my dream about you? Why do I remember it now?"_

 _"You forgot me," little girl Slick cooed. "What a_ pity _Peter Parker." She spit out each p with a spray of crumbs, that globbed onto the pink pants she was wearing. "It could've turned out so much better if you could've just remembered who had come to visit your dreams."_

 _This wasn't just an ordinary nightmare. No, it couldn't just be anxiety-induced nightmares that would fade with time. The shapeshifting villain had the power to enter his dreams._

 _Could it see his thoughts?_

 _No. If it could, it wouldn't have to demand to know where his Spider-Man abilities could come from._

" _Penny for your thoughts?" Slick hummed. She took a second bite of brownie and looked up with big, curious eyes._

 _Peter shook his head no._

 _Slick pouted._

" _Fine then. We'll have to move on to the next topic. Your friends. Your allies. Your family."_

 _The little girl waved a chocolate-coated hand at the air. Suddenly Aunt May appeared in the kitchen. She took no notice of either of the two characters, even walking through Peter, into the living room and back at one point. Her lips were glued in the permanent frown that had developed after Uncle Ben's death and the stress lines were carved deeply into her forehead._

 _She puttered around the kitchen, drying dishes, putting them away, occasionally peering at the big casserole in the oven. Delicious smells- in a dream?- wafted up and through the air. Peter suddenly felt homesick. He missed his aunt's cooking. He missed his aunt._

" _You love her a lot, don't you?"_

 _At some point, Slick had hopped off the counter. She now stood right next to Peter. She offered him her still chocolate covered fingers. He didn't take them._

 _Slick sighed in a very childlike way. She sat down on the ground, legs folded._

 _Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Aunt May's frown suddenly lightened, and she hurried through Peter's transparent form to the door._

" _Amanda! Elayna! Come on in! Dinner is almost finished."_

 _Peter turned around and watched as a young mother and her daughter entered the house. Aunt May greeted them with affection, giving the mother a small hug. She picked up the daughter and held her gently in her arms. The little girl turned her head towards the kitchen and looked directly at Peter. She gave a wicked grin._

 _His heart dropped._

 _Slick._

 _Aunt May gently put Slick down. The little girl's face was sweet and innocent again. She ran to the couch, where a bucket of Peter's old toys sat._

 _Peter looked behind him at the original Slick. She wasn't paying attention to him. Her eyes were closed, brows slightly creased._

 _Eyes opened again, and they were solid gold orbs. The first Slick grew, until she was six feet tall, imposing, in a regal, off-shoulder dress, a flowing velvet cape attached to smooth, muscular arms. She withdrew a slim, sharp dagger and strode through the kitchen, into the living room, straight towards Aunt May._

" _No!" He shouted. But no sound came from his mouth. He tried to leap out, jump in front of Slick. He couldn't move._

 _Just before Slick stabbed it at Aunt May, she paused. A malicious smile developed on her face. The first Slick twisted and hurled it at the second, who was still a little girl playing with Peter's old toys._

 _The dagger pierced Slick Two's side. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the second Slick began to change._

 _The little girl sitting on Aunt May's couch grew, skin making way to green, writhing Hulk. Soon, the Slick-Hulk was bigger than the couch._

 _The Slick-Hulk roared. Aunt May and the little girls mother screamed. Peter could only watch as it swat them like flies, wood and plaster walls splintering as the Hulk's massive arm burst through the house._

 _The Hulk paused. It sniffed, smelled, and turned its eyes to Peter._

 _Peter still couldn't move._

 _The original Slick had somehow remained unscathed. She cackled as the Hulk leaped straight at Peter…_

 **Cliffhanger:)**


	18. Chapter 18

**Last time…**

 _The Slick-Hulk roared. Aunt May and the little girl's mother screamed. Peter could only watch as it swat them like flies, wood and plaster walls splintering as the Hulk's massive arm burst through the house._

 _The Hulk paused. It sniffed, smelled, and turned its eyes to Peter._

 _Peter still couldn't move._

 _The original Slick had somehow remained unscathed. She cackled as the Hulk leaped straight at Peter…_

* * *

 **Chapter Eighteen:**

Bruce may have found confidence and peace with the Hulk, but that didn't mean he wasn't nervous about what he was about to do. Telling Peter that he knew who he was had unpredictable results. How would the vigilante react? Bruce could still remember the Avengers first encounter with Spider-Man. The teenager had been hunched over, nursing his left side, dangerously tense by the end of the encounter, like a wounded animal, fighting for the only thing that mattered to it. Wounded animals made rash decisions. Bruce hoped Peter's reaction wouldn't be rash.

The dimly lit, soft yellow lighted hallways full of shadow and gloom were a big contrast when compared to the sterile, bright white light of the lab. Dr. Banner could see Peter through the tiny window in the doorway. The teen was bent over some object, a soldering iron in hand. He seemed to be fully absorbed in his work.

Seemed to.

Bruce knew better. Peter was Spider-Man. Most likely, he had heard Bruce's footsteps way before Bruce had arrived at the door.

There was no point in procrastinating any longer then. Palms sweaty, Bruce opened the door to the lab and stepped in.

* * *

Peter had heard Bruce's footsteps long before the scientist entered the room. For a few moments, his heartbeat sped up. He wanted to clean up the circuit board he was designing for SUSANNA and leave.

But no. Dr. Banner had started coming in every morning and he'd been giving Peter advice on his projects. It was the exact same time he always came.

Peter gave his shaking hands a moment. Then he picked up the heated soldering iron and did his best to look busy.

Dr. Banner entered the lab a few seconds later. Peter couldn't look away from the circuit board without possibly mislaying the metal. He gave a short nod instead, as an acknowledgement.

Dr. Banner's footsteps grew closer. They stopped a few feet away from Peter. There was silence.

Eventually, the delicate conductors were laid out in their precise, clinical pattern. Peter put the soldering iron back on its stand and looked up at Dr. Banner with a hesitant smile. He had come to enjoy the scientist's visits. Dr. Banner had a dark, unexpected sense of humor that made Peter's work in the lab more enjoyable.

The smile fell off Peter's face. There was a sheen of sweat on Dr. Banner's brow. The man was twisting his lips. His fingers played with the pen in his hand.

 _The little girl shifted, and green filled Peter's vision. There was an ear shattering roar and then-_

He shuddered. Where had that come from? It was bothering his mind. It was something he was supposed to remember, something he'd forgotten...

Peter's reaction only seemed to make Dr. Banner more nervous. The scientist pushed his glasses up his nose and swallowed.

"Hi Peter," The scientist managed. "How are you doing?"

Maybe Dr. Banner would pretend like he didn't know. Maybe he would leave it alone, forget about it.

"I'm good." Hopefully the fear wasn't showing in his eyes.

Dr. Banner offered a strained smile.

"Great. What are you working on?"

Maybe Dr. Banner would leave it alone. Peter did his best to push away the concerns in the front of his mind and focused on the holographic designs floating above the table instead.

"This circuit board's gonna be one of four. I'm going to attach it…"

Peter explained the plans and designs, until Spider-Man and Spider-Man's seemed far away. Instead, Peter's thoughts were consumed by his latest ideas. It was a long explanation, with lots of technical details that would be hard for the biologist to understand without a little extra explanation, but he persisted.

By the end of it, the tension that had existed before had been forgotten. Dr. Banner had a little smile on his face, that satisfying look that meant impressed in the older scientist's eyes. It was almost back to the normal that had existed between the two before Slick had made her appearance.

"This is obviously a very powerful supercomputer, with a very clever and efficient design, but it's missing a visual interface. What's it for?"

Peter hesitated. He wasn't sure how to answer it, without causing a multitude of questions he didn't want.

It was for SUSANNA. The computer would make it safer for the AI when on defensive. Peter was also going to lay it out and add a protective covering in such a way that he could bring it with him in his suit… he had been considering a few technological upgrades to the simple polyester-spandex compound.

But how to explain that to Dr. Banner?

"It's for… um. A different project."

Dr. Banner's inquisitive gaze focused on Peter.

"A different project? Would you like to share?"

"I-"

There was an uncomfortable silence. Peter really couldn't go any farther. It would bring up a conversation he didn't want to have.

At Peter's hesitance, Dr. Banner's face changed back into the nervous expression it had featured when the older scientist had first entered the room.

"Peter, there's really something I should tell-"

No.

A nasty knife of anxiety sliced through his chest. That panic-inducing sensation of fear overwhelmed his mind. A surge of adrenalin flooded his muscles; every bone in his body was telling him to run. Peter took a step back. He didn't want to hear it.

"Peter, please just listen. I know-"

"Please just forget about it." Peter couldn't keep his voice from cracking slightly. "You don't want to get involved, I don't want you involved. Just pretend like you never found out."

"You're Spider-Man."

He'd been expecting it, but his heart stuttered anyway. Peter slumped. He didn't deny it.

Bruce took a shaky breath, and lowered himself onto a lab chair. For a bit, the only sound was the gentle hum of the electricity flowing from Stark's arc reactor, to the lab. The amount of power flowing through the room was enormous. It could do so much, cause so much change. But all it took was the flick of a tiny switch to turn it all off.

"What's so important about your identity? Why are you so desperate to keep it a secret?"

That was a good question. Peter knew part of it was some gut instinct that had developed over the past few years, an instinct that screamed at him to run any time Peter Parker could be discovered. Keeping his identity a secret wasn't entirely based off fear.

Partially, it was because if Peter wanted a future, Spider-Man couldn't be associated with him. There would be no way to a semi-normal life if Peter Parker and Spider-Man were the same.

More importantly, there was his aunt. The press, media, random Spider-Man fans would metaphorically tear her apart.

The villains literally would.

"I've got family." He hated how brittle his voice sounded.

Dr. Banner sagged.

"The Avengers would keep your identity safe."

The explanation was feeble and both of them knew it. Dr. Banner didn't even look like he'd convinced himself.

Dr. Banner knew. There was nothing Peter could do about it, because the older scientist was the Hulk, and even Spider-Man couldn't beat the Hulk. All of the pain, all of the trouble he'd gone through had come to nothing, because of an old scientist that had cared a little too much.

It was the end.

Peter picked himself up. He pushed his stool under the lab table. Metal rubbed against linoleum and it let out a loud screech. Carelessly he scraped SUSANNA's new computer into a cardboard box. He began putting away the rest of the supplies.

Dr. Banner watched silently. Peter wished he knew what the scientist was going to do. He felt exposed and unprepared. There would still be time to leave Avengers Tower. He could get Aunt May, and they could leave… but to where? Where could they go where they wouldn't be hunted?

The last box of wires was returned to its home with a little too much force. The plastic cracked. Peter decided he didn't care. He scooped up the cardboard box, and made his way to the door.

"Where are you going?"

Peter glanced back at Dr. Banner.

"I'm going to my room."

Dr. Banner's brow wrinkled.

"Why?"

Peter couldn't help it. He let out a short laugh.

"Where else am I supposed to go? You're a famous scientist, you're friends with Tony Stark, you're an Avenger. You know who I am. I can't run. There's nothing to do but wait."

"Peter, I'm not going to tell the Avengers who you are. Why would've I stopped them in the first place from discovering your identity yesterday?"

"Why else would you tell me that you know?" Peter retorted.

"So I can help you!" The frustration was obvious in Dr. Banner's tone. "Is it so hard to believe that I just wanted to help?"

Peter didn't answer because he didn't have to. They both knew the answer to Dr. Banner's question was yes.

Dr. Banner sighed a long sigh through his nose. He ran a hand through gray, tangled hair. They sat in silence. Peter listened to the steady hum of the lights, the bubbling coffee machine in the office below, the distant squeal of a siren on dirty streets far below.

"Will you accept?"

He looked at Dr. Banner.

"Accept what?"

"My help. Will you accept my help?"

"I…"

At that moment, SUSANNA apparently decided she had had enough of stubborn, unreasonable, guilt-ridden teenagers. She piped up.

"Just say yes, Peter!"

Dr. Banner and Peter both looked up, startled. Peter's eyes widened. If the older scientist found out about SUSANNA there would be no going back.

"SUSANNA-"

"Hush, mijo. You're driving me crazy. Dr. Banner, we accept your offer to help Peter get out of this mess."

To Dr. Banner's credit, he didn't look nearly as freaked out as Peter would have thought, but he did still look at Peter for an explanation.

"That's my…"

This was his last chance to keep Dr. Banner from becoming involved.

"A.I," SUSANNA chimed in. Peter squeezed his eyes shut.

A look of understanding crossed over Dr. Banner's features.

"Everything makes a lot more sense now." The understanding was replaced by awe. "She must be very powerful."

Peter scratched at the back of his head, awkwardly shifting his weight to his other foot.

"Pretty powerful, yeah."

SUSANNA snorted.

"Powerful is an understatement, Dr. Banner. I am composed of ninety four pages of code, and yet, I've taken control of JARVIS, removed information from the internet permanently, and have a personality to equal Iron Man."

Peter winced. "SUSANNA…"

Her voice was accusing.

"You won't boast about yourself, so I'll boast about both of us for you." The southern accent changed to proud. "I'm the reason JARVIS hasn't been able to tell Stark about Peter and I'm the reason Peter can do his Spider-Man stuff while he's at Avengers Tower."

Dr. Banner breathed out through his nose. He chuckled.

"The Avengers have been beside themselves trying to find you, and you've been under their noses the entire time."

Peter ducked his head.

"Yeah."

"That's pretty risky," Dr. Banner pointed out.

It was SUSANNA who answered.

"He's such a stubborn adolescent. It was, but he wouldn't believe _me_ about it."

Why was Peter's AI teaming up with the Hulk to make him feel guilty about his life choices? She was supposed to be on _his_ side.

Why was SUSANNA teaming up with the Hulk at all? Wasn't she the one who'd spent an entire night worrying about what Dr. Banner would do?

"The supercomputer was for your AI, then."

"Yeah."

Dr. Banner chuckled again.

"Wow."

His phone chimed. Dr. Banner pulled it out and glanced at the screen. He frowned, and shoved it back in his pocket.

Peter hoped he wasn't inconveniencing himself for Peter's sake. "Hey, if you need to go…"

Bruce shook his head.

"No. That was nothing. It was…"

"Tony Stark," SUSANNA supplied.

Bruce winced and awkwardly fixed his glasses.

"Yeah. He's just…" He trailed off. "Actually, I should probably go. I have to prepare notes for a lesson later today."

Peter felt gratitude well up within him. Dr. Banner had no reason to help him out, and yet, he'd given up things and gone out of his way to make sure Peter had assistance.

"Okay. Hey, um…" Peter wasn't sure if words were enough to express it. "Thank you, Dr. Banner."

The older scientist smiled.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask for help. And call me Bruce."

" _Dr. Banner left the lab,"_ the mechanical voice droned.

* * *

Peter begrudgingly agreed to meet with Dr. Bann- Bruce in the lab for a few hours that evening instead of go out as Spider-Man. SUSANNA had had to argue why improvements on his suit would mean an overall more saving of lives than not taking advantage of Dr. Banner's help.

The two of them bent over the digital blueprints, in a corner far from the other students getting some extra lab time.

"... and I think the chest and sides could use an added layer," Bruce said.

"But that will decrease the flexibility," Peter pointed out.

"Yes, but you'll still be plenty flexible, and this will keep you safe from potentially life-threatening projectiles. Why not add-"

They felt his presence the moment he opened the door. Bruce cut off abruptly and Peter stiffened.

" _Tony Stark. Logged in at 9:58 P.M."_ The room became silent. The three other kids in the room gaped.

"Close this up." Bruce's quiet tone came out strained. Casually, he strolled away from Peter, in the direction of one of the other students. Peter saved and shut down the programs. He opened another harmless project.

Stark's eyes swept across the room. They singled out Bruce. He strode over, a shark-like grin on his face.

"There's my favorite scientist. What are you up to these days? Looks like you got some new lab partners." Black eyes studied each student's face with a crippling intensity. They lingered upon each one for an abnormally long time.

Peter's spidey-sense tingled gently at the back of his spine as Stark studied him. The tingling only grew more violent when Stark's brow creased slightly.

He recognised Peter.

"What are you doing down here, Tony?" Bruce's voice was polite enough, but Peter could detect the underlying tension. It made the air thicker than Aunt May's split pea soup.

Tony turned away. Peter slumped his posture a bit more and chided himself for not remembering his baggy, oversized hoodie.

"Just checking in. Have you managed to recruit any future young scientists?"

He wanted to leave. The tension in the air had replaced all the oxygen, and he couldn't breathe. His knees felt week and his palms were sweaty.

 _Iron Man firing repulsors, little heat-seaking missiles finding their way to Spider-Man's flesh…_

No. Leaving wouldn't be wise. What kid in their right mind would leave the room when Tony Stark was in there? It would only pull unwanted attention.

"A few." The smile Bruce offered was half-hearted.

Stark scoffed.

"Only a few? I bet I could fix that."

Tony Stark's eyes fell upon Peter.

"How about you? Are you going to work for the greatest scientific company in the world?"

Peter wasn't an actor. He knew it was pure miracle that his Aunt May hadn't found out about Spider-Man yet. How was he supposed to lie to the genius in front of him?

He did his best to sound enthusiastic.

"Yeah, I can't wait."

Bruce winced. The other kids in the room stared at him in shock. Peter gulped.

That had come out really sarcastic.

Stark's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Then he grinned.

"Sarcastic. This one speaks my language. Come visit after you have a college degree, and somebody will get you a job."

He turned back to Bruce.

"Well, I'm absolutely ecstatic that you're enjoying yourself down here."

Like a hurricane, Stark had entered, and like a hurricane, he blew out. When the lab door clicked shut behind him, the room suddenly felt empty. The peaceful silence of the lab didn't seem peaceful anymore. It just felt silent.

The other three students clumped together, whispering furiously among themselves. They glanced at Peter from time to time, more so at Bruce. They were quiet, but Peter could hear every single hurtful word anyways.

He wondered why SUSANNA hadn't texted him to alert of Stark's approach.

He fished around in his pocket, fingers scrabbling around.

It was empty. With a sinking realization, Peter realized he'd left both the flip phone and the smartphone in his room. SUSANNA was not going to be happy.

"Peter," Bruce looked just as shaken up as Peter felt. "Do you want to finish…" He jerked a thumb towards the work table.

"No, I'll finish later."

Peter had his hands behind his back so Dr. Banner couldn't see their nervous shaking. He did his best to paste a neutral look on his face, but his mouth wouldn't bend in the right directions.

Bruce hesitated.

"Are you…?"

Neither of them were good at words and neither of them were good at people. Peter had a good idea of what question he was trying to ask, but he wasn't going to answer it, because he didn't like the answer.

No, he wasn't okay.

For all he knew, Tony Stark would figure out who Peter was, and everything would be over.

Peter offered a strained smile and left the lab.

* * *

New York Times

Rebecca Schouler

Avengers Assail Spider-Man

 _Photo: Spider-Man by the Empire State Credits: Peter Parker, Daily Bugle_

It was with no small amount of shock that New Yorkers watched grainy footage of the Avengers surround, threaten, and brutally attack Spider-Man, the controversial vigilante that has been the focus of many complaints and thanks the past two years. The Avengers, up to this point, had remained silent on the rising issue of vigilantism and mutant control. Now, it appears something has caused them to change their minds about New York's friendly neighborhood hero.

The short video, ironically posted by a Stark Industries employee present at the Tower at the time of the attack, has gone viral, reaching over 500 million views overnight. Everyone has an opinion. Locals, such as Stan Lee of North Corona, Queens, are angry.

"My grandson's bent over that smartphone of his like always, watching some video, and I go, 'Hey, I think I know that guy!' We watched it together. I couldn't believe what I was seein'! The Avengers, beatin' up a fellow hero?... I'm a big fan of Captain America, and all them, but Captain America didn't save my daughter from a few creeps a while back."

Others, such as Phil Stone, one of New York's representatives and publicly against vigilantism, offers his view of the situation.

"Spider-Man may have his good moments, but it is plain the danger his unchecked power holds. Now, the Avengers have come to realize that, which I think is an excellent mark of their character and reliability. The video isn't of good quality. We can't know why the Avengers were attempting to subdue him. But they definitely had a reason, and I strongly believe that it was a good one."

The Avengers have offered no response or comments on the video and the events that took place outside of Avengers Tower last night.

The video has also created a newfound interest in New York's vigilante for the rest of America. All over the nation, opinions, articles, pictures, fan-made merchandise, and even cosplayers have sprung up. People want to know who Spider-Man is, what he wants, and why he hasn't been apprehended by authorities. It has sparked a heated debate all over the country, not only about whether or not the Avengers were right to assault Spider-Man, but also whether or not the government should be doing more to control those with mutations and superhuman abilities.

Should vigilantism remain unchecked?

* * *

 **Okay guys, sorry for the delay. Three months is a long time not to post a new chapter. Also...**

 **Stan Lee cameo appearance!**


	19. Chapter 19

"Dr. Banner is sick today," Dr. Baron announced.

Peter looked up from his breakfast. He kept a neutral expression on his face and swallowed the scrambled eggs. They didn't slide down his throat as easily as they should have. According to Bruce, the Hulk couldn't get sick. Bruce had explained it to him in one of their many conversations since Bruce had told Peter he knew he was Spider-Man three days ago.

Something else must have been up.

He halfheartedly scooped another bite of eggs into his mouth, and abandoned the fork.

The chair made a _skreec_ sound when Peter shoved it away from the table. Nobody looked in his direction when he got up and left the room.

"SUSANNA," Peter asked the second he was in his room and the door shut. "Where's Bruce?"

"He's upstairs." Did SUSANNA sound scared? "In his Hulk-proof room."

Peter swallowed. SUSANNA very rarely sounded scared.

"What's going on?"

"I'm not sure." SUSANNA definitely sounded scared. "He hasn't turned into the Hulk yet, but he's looking a little green. I think he's trying to sleep."

Peter didn't know what to do. Should he have SUSANNA call, to make sure everything was alright?

No. That might not be right. Bruce was a lot of fun to hang around, but he might not welcome Peter's attempt to help.

"Can you show me?" Peter asked instead.

"Peter…" SUSANNA's tone was warning. "That's an invasion to Dr. Banner's-"

Peter rubbed at his temple. "Just show me, please."

The TV on the wall lit up.

It was an empty, large space encased in shadows. The camera had been placed directly above the room, in the middle, in such a way that Peter had a bird's eye view. A still form lay in the middle, lying on the cold, metal floor.

It shuddered, and shifted.

Bruce's green-tinged face was contorted in an expression of unfathomable pain. His eyes were screwed shut, his teeth were clenched together. Both arms were scrabbling, tearing at his skin, like it hurt. The single clinical white light shone down on his sweat-soaked, glistening features.

The sight was so pathetic, so unlike the Bruce Peter had come to know, that he took a step back. His stomach suddenly felt queasy.

Spasms racked through Bruce. The exposed mold-colored flesh on his arms bulged, pulsed like a heart. Peter's eyes wouldn't tear away from the screen. For one terrifying moment, it looked like he'd fully transform.

But it faded, leaving Bruce looking twice as pathetic and helpless, shivering uncontrollably.

SUSANNA's voice was unusually soft. Grim. Resigned.

"If Bruce were ever to get sick, that's probably what it would look like."

Peter swallowed.

"Yeah."

"I'm going to shut it off now."

He didn't object.

Suddenly, the passionate, soft-spoken scientist was a whole different person. Peter had grown to value his time with Bruce, but now to see what was hiding under the surface? It shook him. If Peter hadn't known Bruce was the Hulk, he would've thought him no stranger than everybody else. He didn't act any more different than other quiet, intelligent people.

He was hiding such pain.

The black TV screen reflected Peter's own, shadow lined, hollow features. He stared at dark eyes unseeingly.

"Everyone has their demons, Peter." SUSANNA's voice was comforting. "Bruce's are just more material than most."

* * *

Peter didn't respond because he didn't know how.

It was a lonely, tense day.

Peter didn't realize how used he'd become to the older scientist's presence. The older scientist not being there left Peter feeling alone again. He hadn't realized what an ugly sensation it truly was until it had been gone, replaced with that content feeling of companionship.

The entire day seemed thick with some unspoken tension. Something big was stewing and the air crackled with potential energy. Peter felt like there was more going on than he was seeing. It left him edgy.

By the time the evening had rolled around, Peter was more than ready to don the Spider-Man costume and get out of the stifling, suffocating Tower, into the relatively fresh New York air.

Daredevil's training sessions had become the normal way to start out evenings. After the loneliness of the day in the Tower, Peter was almost eager to see the vigilante. Mysterious, bossy companionship was better than no companionship at all.

The temperature had taken a chillier turn, as October slid into November. Icy fingers of wind clawed at Spider-Man's costume. They slipped through the thin fabric and covered his skin in goosebumps. They chilled the metal webshooters around his wrists until they were almost unbearably cold. When Spider-Man landed on the top of the apartment where he was to meet Daredevil, the fingers of wind snatched at a plastic bag and tugged their unwilling victim off the roof. The bag drifted gently down, into the dark alley and out of sight.

There were no signs of life.

Peter's lips tugged into a frown under his mask. Daredevil wasn't there.

That was unusual, because Daredevil had always been there. He'd come sporting a few bleeding injuries a few times, but Hell's Kitchen's vigilante had never been late.

What was up?

Peter took a seat on the edge of the building. His legs dangled above the empty street. He swung them back and forth to keep warm. Everything was quiet, eerily so.

Time went by. Spider-Man found himself pulling out his phone every two minutes. The bright screen would glow harshly in the darkness. Aunt May smiled scoldingly at him from behind the digital numbers. Her hand had only managed to cover part of her face before Peter had snapped the picture- capturing her grin and the cake batter coating every bit of their kitchen.

It was for moments like those that Peter went out in a costume.

As five minutes ticked to ten, and ten to half an hour, Peter's legs swung faster, with more force than was necessary. His fingers tapped at the cement in a songless, impatient rhythm. He started counting how many times he blinked in a minute. Eventually, he grew desperate enough to open up the long-abandoned Crossy Road app. His high score went from fifty-nine to 534.

After forty-three minutes of waiting for Daredevil, he lost focus on anything other than growing concerns.

What if he had slept in? What if he had something else going on? What if Daredevil was injured? What if he was in the middle of a fight he couldn't win? What if it was with the Avengers? What if it was with a villain Daredevil couldn't defeat, and he had die-

Peter abolished that train of thought.

Sixty-two minutes later, Spider-Man climbed back on his feet, rubbed at his freezing butt, and gracefully leaped off the roof, in the direction of a nastier part of Brooklyn.

Even as he did his usual quips while webbing thieves to roofs, his face remained stuck in a disturbed little frown.

Why were both Bruce and Daredevil gone?

* * *

Blood. Blood was good and pain was sweet. Death was right, life was wrong. It was her job, no their job, no _his_ job to extinguish nasty little flames of life, suffocate them in a strangling chokehold.

Wasn't power sweet? Didn't it taste like candy, more delicious than honey?

Yes. It did. Power was a drug and he was high on it. He savored the sensation of the blood dripping down his palm, in between his fingers. It was warm. He relished the strong metallic tang. It overpowered the smell of fabric softener, cleaners, dust, the meal the woman had been cooking before she'd arrived.

She'd arrived? No. Before he'd arrived. Before Daredevil had arrived. He was the one thinking these thoughts. Not she. There was no she. Right?

The train of thought disappeared.

Blood. He was supposed to focus on the blood. On the sound of the old woman's stuttering, pathetic heartbeat. Her lips were open slightly and her breath was coming out in weak puffs. She was almost dead. Another blow, and she'd be gone. Blood. There'd be more blood. Sweet, _slick_ blood for him to-

The doorbell rang.

She- no _he_ , cursed under his breath. He couldn't risk another blow. There was no time.

He had to make it look like a robbery gone wrong. He could feel the warmth coming from the fireplace. His hand swept blindly over the mantel.

Valuables. The TV? He knocked it onto the carpet. It made an alarmingly loud thump.

"May? Are you okay?"

The voice behind the door was concerned. Her heartbeat had sped up.

"May? May, what's going on?"

He strode to the kitchen and slid open the back window. It squealed.

"May? Please answer me."

The old woman, laying concussed on the floor, let out a strangled sound. Daredevil slung one leg over the window sill. The other followed. As he jumped to the ground, there was the shattering of glass from the front of the house, followed a few seconds later by a startled scream.

The vigilante clambered up the fire escape and was far away from the crime scene by the time the old woman's neighbors had called 911.

 **Important Info: Please Read**

 **Okay guys, we've just entered the climax, which means this story is almost done.**

 **There are three options for the next story I will work on. I want you to vote on which one I should do next. You can do this on my profile through the poll, or through a review. The options are on my profile**

 **Also, I'm posting two new stories. One will feature cut scenes from Infiltration. The other is a Tony Stark short story involving an OC and a Road Trip. I have about two chapters written for that so far. It will be a total of four.**

 **Happy holidays!**


	20. Chapter 20

_Peter was in a long hallway. It stretched on as far as his enhanced eyes could see. It was dimly lit, rudimentary bulbs dangling from the ceiling like yellow, glowing bats. The carpeted floor was gray, dirty, and threadbare. There were doors on both sides of the hall, rows and rows of them. The doors were of poor quality, simple slabs of unsanded wood, with chipped, yellowing round handles protruding out of them._

 _They were peculiar. Each door was decorated with items. There were photographs, dresses, flowers, books, words, and even dollar bills haphazardly pinned to the door any way they would fit. Most doors had five or six items. The most Peter counted was eleven, and the least he counted was two._

 _Each door had a golden plate. Each plate had a name and a number. Some of the golden plates were obscured by the items attached to the doors, others were clearly visible. 'Samantha; 1057342', read one. 'Hugo; 2000043', read another. The numbers were in no sort of pattern that Peter could see._

 _Where was he? Where had Slick taken him this time?_

 _A door labeled 'Natalie; 293' suddenly opened. Peter tensed. What horrors did the villain have planned?_

 _A little girl. It wasn't the one Slick usually pretended to be. This one was younger, with thin wisps of blond hair, and big, fearful blue eyes. She was three years old at most. Peter felt a fury develop deep in his chest. If Slick hurt her…_

 _But all Natalie did was edge closer to him. Unwillingly, it seemed. She reached out chubby, pale fingers, and grasped his dangling hand in her own. She tugged gently. Peter stared down at her. What did she want him to do?_

 _She tugged again, insistently. He swallowed, and let her pull him along._

 _Down the infinite hall they went, for what felt like an eternity. Natalie patiently led him along, past door after door after door after door. The walk wasn't boring because each door was different. Peter found, as he walked along, that not one door was the same._

 _Eventually, the quality of the hall began to improve. The carpet slowly became less threadbare and much less dirty. Single, bare bulbs were replaced with neat, squarish ceiling lamps, letting off a warmer glow. The doors were no longer splintered and chipping, but fine mahogany with gleaming, golden handles._

 _At one point, Peter realized the end of the hall was in sight. Far in the distance, there was an elevator._

 _It felt like another infinity passed before the pair actually reached it. Little Natalie stood on her tiptoes and clumsily pressed the 'up' button next to the set of golden, gleaming, heavy doors. They soundlessly slid open._

 _Peter eyed the elevator warily. It was rather spacious, luxurious, like one you'd find at an expensive hotel, but that didn't make it any less confining. People in an elevator had very little control over where they went or what happened to them._

 _Natalie tugged at his hand. He glanced behind his back. The long hall had disappeared, replaced with an empty, gaping whiteness._

 _It seemed he had no choice._

 _When Peter stepped in, the doors shut. The elevator jolted, and Peter's stomach sunk slightly as it started to climb._

 _In the top right corner above the door, there was a little screen. A bright red one flashed on the screen, immediately replaced by a two, three, four, five, six, seven…_

 _Natalie, who before had seemed so uneasy around Peter, suddenly wrapped herself around his leg. Her big blue eyes began to water._

" _Hey, it's okay."_

 _Peter remembered the first time he'd taken the elevator to the top of the Empire State building. His five year old self had been thrilled… until the elevator started moving. The upward motion of the elevator had made his stomach feel like it was trying to jump out of his chest, just like when he'd been in a plane for the first time._

 _He'd started to cry. His mother had kneeled down to his height, and gently explained Newton's first law of motion. He hadn't appreciated the explanation itself at that time, but her soft voice had calmed him down._

 _How much worse did Natalie feel?_

 _Peter gently rubbed the little girl's shoulder in an effort to comfort her, until ninety floors later, the elevator jolted to a halt._

 _The doors opened._

 _They were in another hallway. But this one was exquisite. The floor was marble and the cream walls were trimmed with gold. Between doors were extravagant paintings that even Peter, with his limited knowledge on art, recognized._

" _Peter!" Slick greeted exuberantly. At least, Peter thought it was Slick. Who else would it be? He did not recognize the face; it was an older one with soft wrinkles developing around the eyes, and auburn hair mixed with streaks of white._

 _It was unnerving how many different faces Slick had, and how innocent they seemed, until their actions proved otherwise._

" _I'm glad you're here!" Slick clasped her hands together at her chest. "Today is a very good day for me." She gestured._

" _Come see!"_

 _Natalie suddenly stepped away from Peter and pushed the 'down' button on the elevator. A moment later, the doors had closed, cutting her from his sight._

 _Slick offered an arm, and Peter found his unwilling limbs accepting it. They strolled casually down the hall._

 _This one was nowhere near as long as the first. Peter could actually see the end. Far away, there was a door identical to the ones surrounding him._

" _What do you notice about the doors, Peter?"_

 _He'd noticed a lot of things about the doors. The one that stuck out the most was the objects. The items were so seemingly random. There was no pattern to it. None of it made any sense._

 _But Peter didn't want to answer. He shrugged._

 _The conniving, dark smirk looked wrong on the sweet, older face. If Peter had had any doubt that this was Slick, it was gone now._

" _The doors have items and the doors have names. Who has both items and names?"_

 _She didn't wait for him to answer._

" _People." She tossed a hand out and roughly motioned in the direction of the doors. "People have items and people have names. "Now use the transitive property. If these doors have items and these doors have names, then these doors must have…"_

 _People. These doors held people.  
_

 _A foreboding feeling was developing in Peter's chest. What was the highest number next to a name that he had seen? It had to be in the millions._

 _They came to a halt near the end of the hall. There were three doors that were empty of items and names._

 _Slick wrapped a hand around the handle of one, and tugged it open._

" _These doors are a bit different. They don't contain any people. They're… developing assets that aren't quite under my control yet. Why don't you go see what I've got?"_

 _It may have been a question, but Peter wasn't given any choice. He entered the room._

 _He recognized it immediately. He'd been having a nightmare about this room, before Slick came to visit. The harsh, fluorescent bulb illuminating Dr. Banner's quivering form was no less sickening than the first time he'd seen it._

 _This time, Peter was only several feet from Bruce, not separated by the camera._

" _Fun fact, Peter," Slick purred. "Dr. Banner never gets sick. Why is he sick now? What's his body failing to fight?"_

 _It was frustrating. Slick was giving him tiny slivers of the problem, but not the whole equation. She has control, somehow, it seemed. But not over him. She had a purpose, but he wasn't sure what it was. She wanted to know how he got his powers. Why? What was so important about how he got his powers?_

 _Bruce was failing to fight Slick. Whatever she was, she was too powerful, even for the Hulk. But what was Slick trying to do to him? What was Bruce's body having to fight?_

 _Bruce had started to shake. Peter could only watch in horror as the scientist spasmed uncontrollably._

" _Yes," Slick hummed. "He's almost given up. His mind is worn, his body is worn. Then you'll grow to listen to me, Peter, because you'll realize what I can do when you don't."_

 _The scientist, for the first time, had begun to make noise. Pained groans spit out from between clenched teeth. Peter's hand twitched. He would throttle Slick._

" _You haven't even realized the worst part yet. What a nice 'good morning' that'll be."_

" _Stop," Peter growled._

 _At the sound of Peter's voice, Bruce stopped shaking. He went oddly still. Slick's smirk wavered. She quickly regained composure. It may have been Peter's imagination, but she looked more tense._

 _Could… Bruce hear him?_

 _Peter stood up a little straighter._

" _Why do you want to know where I got my powers?"_

 _Bruce had no reaction the second time to the sound of Peter's voice. It didn't snuff out the idea forming in Peter's mind._

" _Why not?" The answer was flippant._

 _Peter took a step closer._

" _That's not the answer, though. What do you have to do with the Avengers?"_

 _Perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose in mock surprise._

" _You haven't noticed their… uncharacteristic behavior? For a scientist, you're not very observant."_

" _What are you doing to them?"_

 _A change came over Dr. Banner's disturbed features. His finger twitched. The wrinkles disappeared from his brow. His body visibly relaxed._

 _The smirk wiped clean off Slick's face._

" _Let's make our way to another room," she insisted._

 _Peter watched Dr. Banner's eyelids flicker. For the first time in a very long time, a little flame of hope lit in Peter's chest._

" _Let's not make our way to another room." He took a step closer to Bruce. "And maybe this time, it's not up to you."_

 _Their eyes were locked in a life or death staring match. Slick's eyes glittered like a snake._

" _You're not in as much control as you'd like me to believe."_

 _Bruce's eyelids flickered again._

" _In fact…" An idea sprung to Peter's head. "That's why you want to know how I got my powers."_

 _It'd been a wild stab in the dark, but the deadly, deadly anger on Slick's face told him it was a correct one._

 _At the same time, Bruce's eyes flickered open. He stared unseeingly at the ceiling. Then the familiar awareness filled. He slowly sat up, wincing as he did so. His eyes moved from Slick, to Peter, and back to Slick again. He frowned._

" _Peter? What's going on here?"_

 _Peter kept a careful eye on Slick. He took the final steps to where Dr. Banner sat. A thought sprung to mind. Was this really Dr. Banner? Or was it some other nightmare scenario that Slick had planned?_

 _He wished he knew what was going on._

" _You are fortunate." Slick's fists were clenched. Her back was ramrod straight. "Things don't always go to plan."_

 _She didn't smile this time. Just lunged._

 _Peter moved out of the way in the last possible second. He whirled around and brought up a fist. Slick wrapped icy fingers around his hand. Suddenly, Peter's super strength was gone. She pulled in._

 _Slick's fiery eyes were inches from his nose._

" _I don't need Bruce Banner to make your life miserable." Her grip on his fist tightened. "Why don't you go check on dear Aunt May?"_

 _Peter couldn't forget what Slick was telling him, or everything that had happened in the dream. She was doing something to the Avengers, and he couldn't figure it out without remembering. Why did he keep on forgetting?_

 _The scene in front of him began to fade. Peter watched Slick, Bruce, and the room slowly disperse into particles of incoherent color, until that too was replaced, with a sterile, lifeless white._

* * *

Peter's eyes sprung open. His hands were clenching the duvet and the sheets had been pulled out from under the mattress.

 _He couldn't forget! He had to remember!_

But already the dream had almost completely faded from memory. It was like reaching for fragments of the wind.

What had thatbeen about? Peter noted his heavy breathing and the beads of sweat rolling down his face. The dream must have been stressful. It was rare Peter couldn't remember nightmares. He was thankful because usually vivid images haunted him the rest of the day.

There was a knock on his door.

Peter glanced at the clock. The digits read '3:46'.

Who was at his door so early in the morning?

He listened carefully. Two people. He could hear quiet, whispered conversation and sad, muttered words, but their voices were too soft and low to make out individual syllables.

Peter climbed out of bed and made his way through the small apartment, to the front. For a moment, he listened.

" _-wait until morning?"_

That was the voice of the Dr. Baron.

" _It may be his last chance."_

The second voice was deeper. It was male and unfamiliar.

There was a hesitant silence, before the knock came again.

He swung the door open. He squinted at the sudden flood of light from the hallway. His pupils rapidly adjusted.

Dr. Baron stood with a tall police officer in prim uniform. Both of their mouths were set into hard, grim lines. Their polite, comforting smiles were empty. Peter's stomach dropped. There were only two reasons they would be here. One would be Spider-Man, but that would've involved more police officers and less pitying glances.

The second…

" _Why don't you go check on dear Aunt May?"_

The cruel, malicious voice was a distant fragment of a memory from an event Peter didn't remember. The foreboding feeling in his chest bloomed into panic. His fingers twitched.

"What happened to her?" He croaked.

The smiles completely dropped from both their faces. Dr. Baron's gaze redirected to the floor.

"Mr. Parker." Peter wanted to plug his ears. He didn't want to hear any more. "There was a robbery at your home. Your aunt walked in on it. She's at the hospital in critical condition. I'm going to take you to see her."

There was a dull ringing in Peter's ears. For a moment, his eyes lost focus and the two figures blurred in front of them.

He couldn't lose her. Could the universe be so cruel? She was all he had left, all he had to fight for. His aunt was the sun, and without the gravity, the stability she'd always provided, he'd drift off into dark, desolate forgotten space.

A robbery gone wrong? It wasn't an unhappy coincidence. It had everything to do with her nephew's side job.

Somebody would pay.

He mutely followed the officer's suggestion to change into street clothes. Peter didn't even have to consciously make the decision to put his suit on underneath the hoodie and sweats. It was automatic.

Then he was led through the long hall, into the elevator, and through the main lobby of Avengers Tower. The lobby had seemed fascinating when he'd first walked through. Now, it just seemed big and empty.

He slid in to the car, next to the officer, and they made their way through New York's streets in silence.

It was all a blur, until they arrived in his aunt's room. Her deathly pale face, the same color as the bandages wrapped around her head, wasn't something Peter would ever forget. He stood awkwardly over her bed, deaf to the comforting words of the doctor and the pity, pity pity of everyone around him.

"Peter."

What was the police officer's name again? Hunter? Hunt? Peter didn't have the strength to care. He pulled his eyes away from his aunt's pale face, and focused on the officer standing at the door.

"I've talked to my superiors and we're going to let you continue in the Young Minds program at Stark Industries if you want to. I understand that you have no one to provide guardianship at the moment, so we think it would be best if you finished out the Young Minds program until your aunt is well enough to return home."

Was there any other option? Who else would there be to take him in?

Peter nodded.

"Good." The officer reached out a hand and gave Peter's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "She'll be better soon. If you need anything, just call this number here."

He pressed a sticky note into Peter's hand. Peter stared at the bright pink paper dumbly for a moment, before shoving it in his hoodie's pocket.

A nurse stepped in. Another pitying glance in Peter's direction.

"She needs to go into surgery now."

The officer gently led Peter out of the hospital room, into the bleak, sterile hallway, with its rows and rows of doors.

 _Doors. Doors that held people._

"We've arranged with Dr. Baron for you to come and visit her for a few hours every day. Does that sound good?"

It didn't matter if it was a robbery gone wrong, or an attack from some enemy. Someone would pay. Someone would pay very soon. Peter's hands curled into fists under the sleeves of his hoodie. Lithe, iron muscles were taunt under loose layers of fabric.

They could hurt Peter all they wanted. But his aunt? To bring the last bit of unspoiled goodness into the messy web of lies and death?

"Peter?"

Peter stared at the officer with wooden eyes and wooden features. He'd asked a question. What had it been?

The officer repeated.

"We've arranged with Dr. Baron for you to come and visit her for a few hours every day. Are you okay with that?"

Another mute nod, entirely inexpressive of the boiling medley of emotions thrashing in Peter's chest.

"Okay, let's get you back to Avengers tower." The officer started walking, and Peter followed. "It's about five right now. Feel free to sleep in as late as you need."

Peter wouldn't be getting any more sleep tonight.

* * *

SUSANNA watched from the cameras as Peter reentered the building. His movements were unusually stiff and robotic, like one of Stark's suits. His face was expressionless; his mouth a thin line, his eyebrows neither crunched down or raised up, and his jaw wasn't clenched like it usually was when he was frustrated.

But his fingers.

They twitched and shook. One clenched the edge of the sleeves on his hoodie, the other rested against his thigh as he walked. Peter may have seem calm and composed, if not a little stunned, but this tiny little sign meant otherwise.

He was the embodiment of cold and silent rage, encased in the body of a teenage boy. Blind rage meant rash actions, and rash actions meant Peter in danger.

SUSANNA had to calm him down.

It was a hopeless task. SUSANNA grew to realize this as she watched Peter follow officer Hunt back through the lobby, up the elevator, and down the Young Minds hall in the direction of his room. He was too out of it, too encaged by his own grief.

But SUSANNA would try.

She waited until he'd shut the door to his rooms, before speaking up.

"Bruce is better. He's been sleeping for the past twelve hours, but he's not green anymore or in pain. I bet he'll be back down to help out today."

Peter didn't pause. The second the door to his bedroom was safely closed, he was pulling his sweatshirt up over his head. He carelessly kicked his sneakers off and pulled down the gray sweats. He yanked the red mask out of the pocket of his sweats, and flung them to the floor. The next moment, the mask was on and Spider-Man stood in Peter's bedroom.

"Open the window."

From the sound of his voice, they may as well have been having a pleasant conversation. SUSANNA knew that wasn't true.

"Peter…"

"Open the damn window, SUSANNA, or I'll go out the front entrance."

And from the desperation of his actions, SUSANNA had no doubt he'd do it.

Reluctantly, SUSANNA let the thick glass slide open. A gust of wind ruffled the edges of his suit and messed with the pile of papers on his bed stand. The temperature dropped eleven degrees.

Peter stood still. He faced the open window and stared out into the darkness. Every bone in his body seemed coiled with potential energy. His left hand twitched. He took a step forward.

"Peter, please be safe," SUSANNA pleaded. She could've kept the desperation out of her voice, but in that moment it seemed impossible. "Please, just think about what your doing. Don't do anything stupid. We'll figure this out. We'll-"

One instant he was there, the next he wasn't. Spider-Man leaped out of the window, and spiraled towards the ground dangerously fast. The next moment, he'd shot out a web and disappeared behind a building.

The beat up old flip phone, and her brand new supercomputer, lay forgotten on the kitchen counter.

* * *

Bruce felt like one of Steve's punching bags.

He groaned as he sat up. Everything hurt. Never before had he felt so _sore_. It was like every bone, muscle and joint had gone through a meat grinder, with all of his nerves still intact. He hadn't even felt this bad the first time the Other Guy had gone on a rampage.

He was sitting on the floor in Tony's Hulk-proof room. What was he doing there?

There were little bits and pieces, but not the full picture. He remembered waking up to an awful feeling in his stomach. He'd barely made it to the toilet before the contents of his stomach were making a return trip through his throat.

He remembered stumbling down the hallway, into the elevator, and blearily demanding JARVIS to take him to the Hulk-proof room.

He remembered the solid _thunk_ of the heavy doors as they slid shut.

After that, there were dreams. Bruce shuddered at the memory and squeezed his eyes shut, as if shutting them could make the memory go away. The dreams had been… _invasive_ , like tentacles forcing themselves through his ears, eyes and mouth, and making room for themselves in his mind.

The dreams themselves were disturbing. Bruce did his best to remember them.

The shapeshifter's voice in his ears, like rotten fruit. Her mocking tone. Then Peter…

Bruce's eyes sprung open. Were they dreams? They were unlike any dream Bruce had ever had.

Dreams were like recordings done by a camera and played in poor resolution on a screen that phased in and out of existence. These were more like the real thing, not something recovered by a digital eye, but something he'd experienced with his own.

" _You are fortunate." Bruce could only watch in horror, as the shapeshifter's muscles tensed, like a snake about to strike. "Things don't always go to plan."_

 _Without warning, she lunged for Peter. Her form changed from the gentle, curvy form of an older woman, to the lithe, tall, and muscular body of a fighter._

 _Peter moved out of the way in the last possible second. He whirled around and brought up a fist. Slick wrapped icy fingers around his hand. Peter tried to pull away, but he couldn't. Slick pulled her face up right to Peter's. Her face was distorted in a feral snarl._

" _I don't need Bruce Banner to make your life miserable. Why don't you go check on dear Aunt May?"_

 _Peter disappeared_.

 _Bruce stared in shock at the place where Peter had been. Then the Hulk kicked in._

 _Bruce had never seen the Hulk so weak or depleted, yet he was roused with an unparalleled ferocity. His vision was tinged with green. Slick's face went from one of an angry animal, to one of open-mouthed horror._

" _SPIDER."_

 _It resonated through his very being, vibrated like strings in a harp. Maybe the Hulk uttered the word, maybe Bruce did. He wasn't sure. But it had effects._

 _All of his surroundings shattered like glass. Slick became fragments, roaring in anger and pain._

 _Then there was black._

And he'd woken up.

Bruce sat on the bare, metal floor, surrounded by tall gray metal walls. He clenched his gray hair with his fists, and stared at his shoes. His mind was disoriented and turbulent.

"Breathe," He muttered.

Breathing techniques. How did those go again? He needed to count. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. And out through his nose. Again. Eight. And out through his nose.

He needed to calm down, for Peter's sake. Something had happened to Peter. Bruce was sure of it. But his chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself. He was suffocating. He couldn't think.

Someone, some _thing_ had forced it's way into his mind. Something powerful had fought against the Hulk, and had almost won. Then something had happened, and the Hulk had survived. But what?

Bruce had no time to think upon it any longer, because there was a commotion outside.

Even through the thick walls, he could hear Thor's booming voice.

" _I must speak to Dr. Banner!"_

Then the softer voice of someone else. Bruce could make out sound, but no words.

Thor's response was indignant.

" _There is no option, Stark. I must speak to him now!"_

There was a _whoosh_ and a _clang_ and suddenly the four metal walls surrounding Bruce were rising into the air.

He squinted at the sudden bright light. Gradually, the walls slid back into their slot in between the walls of the floor above the one Bruce was currently on. He found himself in his lab.

Several feet away stood Thor, next to the bright red button that controlled the walls of the Hulk-proof room. He had placed his hammer on top of the button. His expression was troubled.

"Dr. Banner, I must speak with you now."

Tony stood a few feet away. His face was icy.

"Bruce, it's not safe for you to be out. Just an hour ago, you were turning green."

Bruce was still disoriented. He did his best to clear his head. Evaluate the situation.

"I…"

"Dr. Banner, time is of utmost urgency. Let us speak."

"No Bruce, you need to return. You're endangering lives."

Thor's agitated expression only increased.

"Dr. Banner, he does not understand the danger we are all in. Time is of essence."

His gaze flickered from Thor to Tony. Couldn't they just give him a moment?

"I-"

Tony. What was going on with him? He'd never seen that look in Tony's face before. His eyes were two black stones. His lips were curled downward in a sneer. He was unusually still. That wasn't natural. Tony was never still.

Bruce shut his eyes.

 _Red and green melded together as the Hulk's roar resounded._

 _SPIDER_.

He quickly opened his eyes again. He shuddered.

Thor. He needed to go with Thor.

Bruce got to his feet. His legs wobbled. The ground spun. His empty stomach lurched. Thor hurried over, and reached out an arm to stabilize him. Bruce batted it away.

He spoke in a low voice.

"I need to go by my room first. I'm..." He examined the disgruntled, ragged state of his pajamas.

The wrinkles on Thor's face disappeared. His expression changed from one of anxiety, to relief.

"Yes, you are right. We must leave the Tower."

Bruce took another moment to wait for the ground to stop spinning. Then he stumbled forwards, towards the door. Thor followed, hands ready to catch him.

Tony was icy and silent. Marble eyes followed Thor and Bruce on their trek across the wide, open space lab towards the glass sliding door.

"First it was Spider-Man, now it's Thor. So much for science buddies."

He hated hearing Tony closed off. His friend reserved that for people he didn't like. Didn't trust.

Bruce paused. He shut his eyes and willed the dizziness to go away. He hated what he was doing, but was he to sacrifice what was right and what he believed for the sake of their friendship?

He couldn't bear to look back.

"I'm sorry Tony."

He hobbled forwards on shaky legs, Thor right behind him. The door slid open, and slid shut behind them when they left.

* * *

 **I'm on Tumblr! gammathetaalpha**

 **Check out nikki_ofshadows on AO3. I'm betaing for her, and she's got a pretty epic Peter and Tony, Father and Son story called Twist of Fate!**

 **I've not edited this... report errors.**

 **No spoilers for Infinity War!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Important! For readers who have read already read this chapter, I posted a small change to what happens when Bruce leaves the cafe. Also, got rid of some of those nasty errors, including the random repeated paragraph.**

* * *

 **SUSANNA: Peter's aunt is in the hospital. He's not in a healthy state of mind. Help Thor, then come quickly.**

Bruce stared at the text message. His fingers shook. His skin felt clammy. His stomach was doing flips.

He could still hear Slick's sweet, sickly voice in the back of his mind.

' _Why don't you go check on your dear Aunt May',_ she'd taunted Peter.

He knew something had happened to Peter. Bruce knew it with the same certainty that he knew he existed. But what confused Bruce was the dream. Dreams were dreams and had nothing to do with reality. People couldn't tell the future through dreams, or communicate through dreams. Bruce didn't live in some science fiction movie.

What was he even talking about? Bruce was on his way to go discuss world ending crises over breakfast with the embodiment of Norse mythology, in a city that had been attacked by aliens a year ago. Communicating, or telling the future through dreams wasn't even that ridiculous. If he thought about it, communication through dreams was probably the least weird part of the mad world he lived in.

Bruce sat down on his bed in the Young Minds living area. He finished buttoning up his shirt, and picked up his phone to text SUSANNA back.

 **Bruce: Why is she in the hospital?**

A response came back almost instantly.

 **SUSANNA: A robbery gone wrong, supposedly. Peter doesn't think so. He's headed home now.**

 _NO!_

Bruce's phone slid out of his hand. Both hands went to his head. He squeezed his eyes shut.

For the first time in days, the Hulk voiced his opinion. A Hulk-sized temper tantrum was brewing. He battered and bellowed and pummeled his big green fists against Bruce's control. Bruce felt the veins in his neck bulge. He didn't have to see them to know they were green.

 _PROTECT HIM._

The Hulk repeated it over and over again, his mantra and his battle cry.

' _Why?!'_ Bruce shouted at the out of control monster in his mind. ' _Why Peter? What's so special about Peter?'_

The Hulk didn't respond.

Not that Bruce disagreed with him. But he couldn't _think_. It was too loud. The memory of the blissful silence of the past several days was wiped away in seconds.

He couldn't do anything unless the Hulk shut his angry, oversized mouth.

" _Please!"_ Bruce was begging. " _I can't help him unless you quiet down!"_

The Hulk wrestled for control. Images of the Hulk swatting humans to the side like gnats flooded Bruce's mind. Bruce slid off his bed to the ground.

" _Peter wouldn't want that!"_

Bruce did his best to mentally impress on the Hulk his memories of Peter. Self-sacrificing, empathetic Peter, who put his life on the line for the people the Hulk was imagining destroying.

For the first time, the Hulk heard Bruce.

The temper tantrum stopped in moments.

Bruce couldn't prevent the open-mouthed shock that covered his face.

He really hadn't expected that to work.

His hands slowly unclenched his graying hair. Bruce pulled himself back to his feet. He picked up his phone. Three text messages from SUSANNA.

 **SUSANNA: Bruce, what's wrong?!**

 **SUSANNA: Please don't Hulk-out! It's not that bad!**

 **SUSANNA: Bruce!**

Bruce knew SUSANNA could see him, but he texted her back anyways.

 **Bruce: I'm fine. What's Peter's address?**

The next message revealed Peter's address in Queens. Bruce put his shoes on, shoved his wallet and phone in his pocket, and left the Young Minds hall.

Thor and Bruce had agreed to meet in Parking Garage C, the one used for long-time employees, and the Avengers. It was the best way to leave the building without getting harassed by reporters and adoring Avengers fans.

It was surprising how many of those there were at five in the morning.

Bruce pressed for Parking Garage C.

His stomach let out a big growl. He was starving. Bruce didn't want to eat, but he wouldn't be any use to Peter if he collapsed. Either way, he hoped whatever Thor needed to talk about wasn't too big of a disaster. Bruce didn't need to see Peter to know he was in a dangerous state of mind right now.

He missed the chaos in the lobby by two minutes.

* * *

At 5:00 A.M on a Thursday morning, Avengers Tower was already showing signs of life. Security guards and janitors replaced night shift workers and exhausted scientists pulling all-nighters, running on nothing but coffee and motivation. Cafeteria workers were next, followed by the early-rising secretaries going to open up their respective offices before their bosses arrived.

The big main lobby wasn't bustling with activity, but it certainly wasn't void of it. There were enough people making their way in and out that surely at least one of them would notice something odd.

Someone odd.

Slick, in threatening golden armour, a cape so purple it was almost black, and the same face she had worn right after turning into the Hulk, stalked past security at the front desk, and made her way across the main lobby. Her face was murderous, sleek eyebrows pointed down, and blood red lips twisted into an angry snarl. She held a long, vicious blade in each leather-clad hand.

Behind her marched a small army of people. Most notable were Captain America, the Black Widow, and Hawkeye, all in uniform. There were men and women with SHIELD's eagle crest emblazoned on their chest, including deputy Maria Hill. There were people in police uniform, Special Ops uniform, and sixteen in civilian clothes. They didn't spare any of their surroundings a single glance; their blank faces were all fixed straight ahead at the woman in front of them.

Nobody else in the lobby even blinked. They each went about on their respective tasks like it was perfectly normal for a six foot tall woman with a unit of armed, dangerous persons to stomp their way through Avengers Tower. No one even asked for Captain America's autograph.

Well SUSANNA would be darned. Either humans were even more unobservant than she had thought, or something incredibly _odd_ was going on.

She watched with increasing incredulity as the group marched across the lobby. Incredulity quickly turned to alarm as they wordlessly and flawlessly sectioned themselves into smaller groups and crammed into the elevators. Alarm turned into panic when Captain America, Black Widow, and Hawkeye, each in their respective elevators, typed in the access code for the 78th floor.

Better known to the Avengers as the arsenal.

Slick broke off from the rest, and made her way to a smaller, almost invisible elevator tucked in a corner, shadowed behind a few large potted plants. Without hesitating, she punched in Stark's access code for his private elevator, and pressed for the top floor.

On the top floor of Avengers Tower, Stark stood in front of his elevator, an eerily apathetic look on his face, and a glass of pricey Pinot Noir in his hand.

He'd poured it five minutes ago and hadn't even taken a sip.

SUSANNA had not signed up for this.

She was doing a lot. If she hadn't had full, unrestricted access to JARVIS's powerful processors, she might have even been a tad bit stressed. She was currently tracing Peter's movements to the best of her ability through traffic cameras, (and just like SUSANNA had suspected, he was swinging recklessly in the direction of his home in Queens), she was texting Bruce, and on top of that, she was suddenly dealing with the most deadly, random, emotionless flash mob she had ever seen.

"Ummm… JARVIS?"

JARVIS, in his own apathetic way was observing the sudden invasion with no small amount of alarm.

"Sir," JARVIS's voice was crisp, British, and emotionless. He delivered the news to Stark the same way he might have told him the daily weather forecast. "There are a multitude of intruders in the elevators, including known supervillain Slick, who is currently making her way up to the top floor in your personal elevator. What protective measures would you like to take?"

"None, JARVIS."

If SUSANNA had a jaw, it would've dropped to the basement floor of the Tower in utter shock.

"Did he just-" She was seething. JARVIS wisely made no reply. There was a distinct, nagging worry, as an unpleasant theory shaped.

The elevators holding the majority arrived at their destination. Without receiving even a word of spoken command, they all dispersed to different storage containers. Most got into an orderly, silent line behind the vault holding military grade assault rifles. The Avengers went to their own lockers and stocked up on their own personalized weapons. Three of the people in civilian clothes went to the vault containing materials for easily made explosives.

They were, SUSANNA realized, preparing for war.

Suddenly SUSANNA was glad Peter wasn't in the Tower. How could she protect him from all this?

Slick arrived at the top floor. The elevator let out a cheerful 'ding', and the doors slid open.

Stark stepped to the side, out of her way, and offered one of the glasses of wine. Slick snatched it from his hand, downed it in one gulp, and tossed it to the floor. The glass shattered. Stark didn't flinch, not even when some of the shrapnel battered his legs and his feet. Slick's heavy boots stomped through it. The glass crunched into fine dust under her feet.

"Pick it up," Slick growled. Stark walked over to the far corner of the sprawling, luxurious room, and pulled a broom and dustpan out of the corner closet. He obediently knelt down among the shards, and swept them into the dustpan.

Suddenly, Slick swung around. She kicked Stark in the chest. The dustpan clattered to the floor. Glass shards scattered all over his lap. He was sent sprawling onto his back. His arms raised protectively over his face.

SUSANNA winced. That had to have hurt. Several of JARVIS's sub-programs went off.

 **Alert:** Tony Stark is in danger from assailant of unknown strength.

 **Alert:** Tony Stark has injuries of varying severity. None life threatening.

 **Alert:** Tony Stark in unknown mental condition. Mental condition indicates incapability of sound

decision making in self defense.

 **Alerts evaluated.**

 **Response to Alerts:** Activate following sub-programs: _Further Evaluate Threat In Tony Stark's Vicinity,_ and _Make Decisions for Unconscious or Mentally Unfit Tony Stark._

SUSANNA affirmed the sub-programs JARVIS was wanting to start. Behind Slick's back, all nine of the Iron Man suits turned on. Nine pairs of blue eyes glowed. JARVIS prepared each of them for defensive action, should Slick attempt to hurt Stark again.

Slick leaned forward over Stark. Her gaze was predatorial. Her mouth was twisted in a savage grin.

"There's some fight left in you, isn't there Tony?" she purred. She reached out a slender finger and stroked his cheek. The billionaire's face remained blank. "Look at you, blatantly disregarding my orders to, at _all costs_ , prevent Thor from speaking with Dr. Banner. You've made a mess of things. Now I'm afraid the attack against your two friends will have to begin sooner than expected."

Her voice was soft and silk, gentle. It almost sounded _friendly_.

If SUSANNA had had any doubt to the awful theory that had begun to shape, she didn't now.

It was mind control. That was the only logical answer to the silent, machine-like army invading the Avengers arsenal, preparing themselves for battle. Slick, somehow, some way, had them under her were like ants and Slick was their queen. They silently, without receiving verbal instructions, did what they were had lost that sense of choice, and with it, emotion. However Slick was doing it, it was obvious that it was powerful. Even half of the Avengers obediently followed her instructions.

Not Bruce. Not Thor. Not even Stark was fully under her grasp, from what Slick had said.

How long had this been going on? How long had these people been under Slick's control? Were these the only people under her control? How could nobody notice this?

What was Slick planning?

SUSANNA wished she had hands so she could throttle the monster. She'd have succeeded at it too, with pure sass and overprotective personality.

Slick had leaned over so far, her nose was inches from Stark's. She flicked Stark's chin.

Stark's blank expression flickered.

For a moment, that awful, mask-like, apathetic expression disappeared. His jaw tensed. His lips tightened. His eyes were fiery and defiant and SUSANNA saw Tony Stark in that expression.

The expression was wiped away at Slick's sudden peal of blank look returned.

"It's always the smart ones that like to rebel." Slick's grin was conspiring. For a moment, she looked like a little girl sharing a morsel of gossip. She leaned close to Stark's ear. "It doesn't annoy us. We think it's cute."

Slick leaned back. She looked Stark directly in the eye. She raised two fingers.

"Just a little extra force, and you won't be getting any silly ideas." Slick pressed them to Stark's forehead, held them there for one second, two seconds, five, and released. She returned to her towering, menacing height, standing up straight.

Instantly, Stark climbed to his feet. More of JARVIS's silent alerts went off as blood trickled down Stark's palm and dripped off his fingertips. JARVIS's scanners detected multiple pieces of glass embedded in Stark's skin.

Stark stood still. Slick studied Tony with a critical gaze. Slowly, a feral grin grew upon her face. She spun around, her cape whirling around with her, and sauntered in the direction of the elevator.

"Let's not waste time again, Tony. I'm going to be very busy keeping Dr. Banner and Odin's eldest son occupied."

The elevator let out another cheerful 'ding'. The doors slid shut, Slick inside the elevator.

Stark didn't even bother to pick the shards of glass out of his palm. He went straight to the several translucent computer monitors. His fingers danced across the screen. SUSANNA watched him pull up JARVIS's programming. For a few minutes, the only sound was the dull tapping of fingers against the glass surface. At one point, Stark accidentally smeared a few drops of blood across one screen. He paused for a miniscule second to wipe them with the edge of his sleeve, then returned to his work.

SUSANNA realized what he was doing when he pulled up the sub-program ' _Make Decisions for Unconscious or Mentally Unfit Tony Stark'._

Both she and JARVIS had reached the conclusion that Stark was being mentally controlled by Slick. That meant Stark was mentally unfit, which meant JARVIS could override any decisions that Stark made.

Decisions like accessing nuclear weapons and blowing up half the planet.

SUSANNA hoped Slick wouldn't use Tony to try to pull something like that.

"Hey, copy the sub-program Stark's about to delete and save it to a hidden archive where Stark won't look."

JARVIS did what SUSANNA commanded. Moments later, Stark selected all of the code involving the sub-program, and deleted it.

The genius closed down the programs running with a swipe of his fingers. The screens went dark.

"JARVIS." Stark's voice was emotionless as JARVIS's, only significantly less British. "Launch a M26 missile at the coffee shop where Dr. Banner and Thor are currently located."

SUSANNA blanched.

What?

Based on the conflicting chaos JARVIS's strings of code were currently having, he was equally shocked.

"Tell him yes," SUSANNA demanded. "But _please_ don't actually do it. Then…"

Slick's small army had left the arsenal fully equipped, and were now heading back to the lobby in the elevators. Slick was still in Stark's elevator.

An idea formed.

"...Then stop all the elevators and activate sub-protocol FFS1."

Sub-protocol FFS1 would encase Stark's elevator in metal walls so strong, the Hulk couldn't get through.

And hopefully, Slick couldn't break out.

JARVIS replied to Stark's command to shoot the missile with a bland, 'yes sir'. Then JARVIS stopped all of the elevators. All the occupants, at the exact same time, looked up. The metal walls surrounded Stark's elevator, and loudly clacked into place.

SUSANNA watched Slick look up as the elevator halted. Her expression went from one of satisfaction to murderous rage.

SUSANNA felt a twinge of satisfaction. "That one's for Peter," she murmured to herself.

She was aware of observation. JARVIS was watching her, studying that particular line of code in her emotional simulator with scrutiny. The silent, massive program, tightly wrapped in SUSANNA's chains stared at her with an unreadable, impassive expression.

His scrutiny made her feel self conscious.

"Mind your own code," she snapped. He withdrew his observation.

Slick suddenly hurled one of her swords at the elevator walls. The odd moment with JARVIS forgotten, SUSANNA watched the sword tear through the wallpaper and bounce off, falling to the floor with a reverberating clang. The elevator walls weren't even dented.

Slick and her small army were stuck in the elevators.

While the disaster had slowly unfolded in the Tower, Bruce and Thor, oblivious to what was going on above them, had made their way to the coffee shop across the street from Avengers Tower. SUSANNA watched through the cafes camera as they sat in brooding silence, Bruce draining his tea like a starved man.

Maybe SUSANNA should mention what was going on right across from the street from the pair.

But if she told Bruce, then who would go for Peter?

* * *

The cafe's environment was comfortable and relaxed. The clink of forks against dishes and the low chatter blended in nicely with the soft, acoustic music playing in the background. The natural light flooding in through the big windows cast everything in a friendly, yellow glow. Bruce's strong, fragrant tea worked its magic despite the current stress, and he found the utter exhaustion fading slightly.

Thor was a sharp contrast to their setting. He didn't relax in the metal chairs, but sat up straight and tense. Bruce didn't miss the way his hand stayed close to the knife in the belt, or how his eyes continuously scanned over the occupants of the room. Thor had chosen a seat placed strategically in the back corner of the cafe, two walls to his back, far away from the other occupants of the cafe. Occasionally Thor's eyes would stray to the window, and he would stare out at the busy intersection, and Avengers Tower across the street. Bruce was starting to wonder what had him so unnerved. The Asgardian wasn't frightened easily.

There was nothing unnerving about their scene, other than the fact that Thor hadn't been attacked by overzealous fangirls wanting selfies. There was always some gawking tourist standing around Avengers Tower. Bruce supposed anonymity could happen every once in a while.

Yet all of this took back burner in Bruce's mind as he considered the state Peter was probably in right now.

The injustice of it. It made him angry. No, it made Bruce furious. In the short time Bruce had spent with Peter, it had stunned him how caring, how aware Peter was of people's needs. He'd met people like Peter in some of the places he'd hidden; mother's who would work fourteen hour days for food, and give the majority of it to their children. Families, despite their already large size, would accept orphaned girls into their small homes to protect them from the horrors on their streets. None of these people deserved the injustice of their situations, yet they accepted it with warm, welcoming arms, and big smiles on their faces.

And Peter took it. It was what it was, and there was nothing Peter could do about it.

Bruce didn't want to be sitting in a peaceful cafe sipping tea. He wanted to go help Peter.

The second they had their respective drinks, Thor began to talk.

"Midgard is in terrible danger, Dr. Banner. Upon my most recent return to Asgard, Heimdall greeted me with news of an escaped quarantined patient with kvilla, a severe disease that corrupts the mi-"

Thor shut his mouth when the waitress arrived with a big tray in her skinny arms. It was full of food and drinks. She mindlessly picked out Bruce's waffles and put them on the table.

Bruce dug in the second the plate hit the table. He didn't even put on syrup. He tore them into bite-sized pieces with his fork, and had shoveled three pieces into his mouth by the time the waitress was passing the other plate to Thor.

The waitress's voice was monotone.

"If you need anything else, please just come up-" She looked up at Thor.

The big tray of food clattered to the floor. Hot coffee went flying, and splashed against Thor's shiny armour. Ceramic shattered. The cafe went silent. Every face turned in their direction.

The poor waitress's face went through a myriad of expressions. Shock, amazement, excitement, and fear all gave way to a tomato-faced embarrassment.

"I-I am so sorry! Please forgive me Th- uh… your majesty. I am so clumsy, and it's five in the morning, and I got to bed at one, and-."

The young woman's face went even redder. She clamped her mouth shut.

Any hopes of not attracting attention in public went out the window. They had the eyes of the entire cafe. Thankfully there were no tech-savvy teens or young adults sane enough to be out having breakfast that early in the morning. If Bruce was lucky, the incident would go unfilmed.

Apparently even big, grave, important announcements could wait for manners and chivalry. Thor, though somewhat tight-faced, comforted the girl.

"Do not let it trouble you, miss. Is there, perhaps, some form of cloth I may use to clean my armor?"

She attempted to stutter out a response, then gave up, and gestured for Thor to follow her. Thor, with a weary sigh, stood up and followed the waitress back to the counter.

Bruce went back to eating his waffles. The entire plate was gone in minutes. It took every ounce of self control not to scoop up the food with his fingers, and eat it like a savage.

Perhaps the most annoying part about being bound to an angry green rage monster was that every time he decided to make an appearance, he left Bruce with the responsibility of feeding him. Them.

The waffles were almost gone, and Thor still hadn't returned when Bruce's phone pinged. He instinctively glanced down.

There was another text message from SUSANNA.

 **SUSANNA: He's left his home. I don't know where he's going, but he's currently crossing Queensboro bridge, into Manhattan. Dr. Banner, I hate to ask this, but can you go to him now? I'm really, really worried.**

Suddenly the last few bites of waffles didn't seem so appetizing. The Hulk grumbled. Loudly. He was impatient. He wanted to know why Bruce was sitting there, wasting time, when Peter was in danger.

Bruce glanced back at Thor. He was busy examining his red cape, which had gotten caught in the crossfire. There was an ugly brown stain on one waitress lingered at his side. The look of absolute panic on her face would've been funny if Bruce hadn't seen it on so many. They were doing their best to scrub at the coffee stain with a rag.

Poor guy was probably unaware of the effect of coffee on velvet.

If whatever information Thor had could wait for Thor to scrub coffee out of his cape, then couldn't it wait for Bruce to go check on Peter?

Bruce's legs and arms moved ahead of his head. He texted SUSANNA back.

 **Bruce: Keep me updated on his location. I'm going now.**

He speared the last three bites of waffles, shoved them in his mouth, dropped a wad of bills on the table (what was the chance of Thor actually bringing money to pay with?) and slipped through the cafe door before Thor could notice.

He stopped short.

What the hell?

* * *

Peter was rage and ice and silence and fury and desperation mashed together in the body of a teenager. He leaped from rooftop to rooftop, never pausing, relentless in his goal, and unstoppable as a natural disaster.

Somewhere deep inside, a little boy raged at the _unfairness_ of it all.

A face that had become increasingly sullen and emotionless at the loss of his uncle, and later, Gwen, now had lost all touches of expression and any sign of feeling. It was a face hardened and callused by life to the point of mimicking the red mask he wore over it.

Stealthier, and at the same time, more reckless than ever, Spider-Man landed on the roof of his long-time home. Yellow 'CAUTION! CRIME SCENE!' tape wove its way around the Parker's front yard, along the side, and behind their house.

He slithered down the wall to the window in Aunt May's room, along the back of the house, and out of sight of the officer watching the front. Peter never had broken the snap lock holding the second story window shut, but he didn't hesitate to do so then. The metal fell into his gloved hand. He shoved the window open.

May's room was empty. The bed, the floors, the surfaces, were as spotless as ever.

He somewhat successfully ignored the pangs of sadness at the sight of the empty and silent house, and made his way down the familiar wooden staircase instead.

It was hard not to remember clomping down this same set of stairs, half asleep, months ago, at the beginning of this ordeal. He'd slid into his usual chair, eyes closed.

His spider-sense had really been out of it that day.

Peter's eyes had sprung open at the smell of bacon. Delicious, meaty, greasy bacon, and those pancakes that only she could successfully make, and orange juice, and syrup, all spread out on the table. May had been standing proudly above the meal. The confusion had been quickly replaced with warm, happy fondness, and pure relief, as Peter realized what the letter on the table next to his plate meant.

It felt like years ago.

That morning, May had already opened the curtains to let the sunlight in. Now, the sunlight shamefully snuck through the small cracks between the curtains. The light only created more shadows. The dining room table wasn't filled with food, but empty and devoid of decoration. The room was the same, and yet without his aunt there to warm it up, ominously different.

Spider-Man realized there was one physical difference.

The long brown smears on the threshold of the door leading to the living room.

Rage coursed renewed through him all over again. Spider-Man's hands clenched into tight, deadly fists. His body trembled and shook.

How he detested himself in that moment. Stupid little Peter. His very existence, his very presence in a person's life meant them getting hurt, even _killed._ Everyone around him shriveled up and burned. How he'd tried to take responsibility upon his shoulders, and how awfully he'd messed up. Spider-Man may have saved a thousand lives, but he'd caused harm and death to those closest to him.

He could imagine their tortured faces in their last moments, his parents expressions were left to his wildest imagination, but he could vividly see the faces of Uncle Ben, Captain Stacey, Gwen, as he failed to save them, and they died.

Now his aunt was hurt. She may have been standing on the threshold of death's door, and who was there to blame in the end, but him? Spider-Man. Peter Parker.

But what was there to do but go after whoever had put her in a coma? What had happened last time he'd sat there and done nothing?

A gunshot and his uncle dead on cold cement.

Peter would avenge Aunt May. He would make whoever did this pay. It didn't matter who they were. They would. They would never be able to hurt her again.

Spider-Man did his best to enter the living room apathetic the the smell of his aunt's blood soaking the carpet beneath his feet. He wouldn't admit to the sour taste of bile rising up in his mouth.

The TV still lay face down on the floor. Spider-Man stared at it, incredulous.

Were the police blind? Seriously? A robbery gone wrong? The way the blood seeped under the television instead of splattering over it made it obvious that May had been beaten into unconsciousness before the TV had been dropped to the floor.

Spider-Man covered his masked nose with one hand in hopes of filtering out the metallic, pungent scent of blood. He used the other to pick the TV off the floor, propping it up against the wall.

There it innocently sat, ignored, concealed by the fallen television. Maybe forensics hadn't investigated the crime scene yet. The small golden key would've been an obvious clue to assist with discovering the identity of the criminal to any person with working eyes in their head.

Peter picked it up, doing his best to ignore the blood staining his glove a darker red. He turned it over in his hand. He leaned closer to read the small, engraved lettering.

'Fogwells boxing gym', it read.

His mind flashed back to a memory.

Spider-Man, at that moment in the past, was raw with pent up grief and frustration and anxiety, with everything going on, everything that had happened. He'd almost strangled the older vigilante in one of their training sessions, and Peter had been done, because he hurt everyone around them.

Daredevil had offered to let him talk. Peter's mouth wouldn't open up.

Then he was following the older vigilante across rooftops in a wild race through Hell's Kitchen. Daredevil had dived into an had followed suit, and the vigilante had taken out a little golden key. They'd stepped through the door, and Daredevil had shared a piece of his life with Peter– a piece of his life behind the mask.

Daredevil couldn't have had anything to do with May ending up in the hospital, or the robbery gone wrong. What motive would he have had?

But the key was too much of a coincidence to ignore.

Spider-Man needed to visit Hell's Kitchen. Even if Daredevil didn't have anything to do with the mess, maybe he could at least tell Spider-Man who else would have a key.

There was a sinking sensation in Peter's chest.

Daredevil wasn't guilty.

Was he?


	22. Chapter 22

**Important: The following scene was altered in Ch. 21!**

 _Last chapter…_

 _Bruce's legs and arms moved ahead of his head. He texted SUSANNA back._

 _ **Bruce: Keep me updated on his location. I'm going now.**_

 _He speared the last three bites of waffles, shoved them in his mouth, dropped a wad of bills on the table (what was the chance of Thor actually bringing money to pay with?) and slipped through the cafe door before Thor could notice._

 _He stopped short._

 _What the hell?_

* * *

That wasn't good.

Bruce goggled at the hordes of people that marched out of the Tower in perfect, uniform lines. With big weapons. Hordes of people that most definitely shouldn't have been in the Tower in the first place.

He scrubbed at his eyes hard enough that little black spots danced around in his vision. The people continued to pour out of the Tower.

 _Heimdall alerted me with news of an escaped quarantined patient with kvilla…_

Maybe what Thor had to say couldn't wait after all.

The Hulk roared inside his head. Bruce blinked away his shock, and spun around on his heel. He ran back into the cafe.

"What the hell is going on?"

Thor looked up.

"What do you-"

Thor dropped the rag in his hand.

"By Odin's eye."

Mjilnor landed in Thor's hand with a thunk. Dark storm clouds developed in his blue sky eyes.

"Dr. Banner, I fear we are out of time. We must get out of here very quickly, or we will be overwhelmed."

"But what-"

The words died on his lips. But what about Peter?

He eyed the masses flooding the streets. They marched in orderly rows down the were all the cars? All the people? The people from the Tower marched through a ghost town void of life.

Bruce swallowed.

Seven months ago, he had made a promise. Defend life, he had told himself. If he was stuck a monster, he would be a monster on the side of the human race.

The human race looked in pretty desperate need of some defending right now.

Peter would have to wait.

"Let's go," he told Thor.

They ran out of the coffee shop, onto the street.

"Hold on to me," Thor commanded. He held an arm out.

Bruce went white.

"I don't think that's-"

A gunshot. Glass shattered. The Hulk snarled. Bruce glanced behind him. The waitress that was just ogling over Thor now had a gun in her hand, and was pointing it at Bruce with an eerily apathetic expression.

Bruce grabbed on to Thor. Thor begins to whirl his hammer around.

Isn't it funny, how in moments of crisis, all a person can think about is how stupid they look? Bruce desperately hoped no one was filming him clinging to Thor for dear life, because-

His feet left the ground.

Wind whistled in his ears. It took him several seconds to realize he'd screwed his eyes shut. Then he was desperately wrestling for control with the Hulk, who wanted to know where they were going, and why it was not towards Peter.

' _We can't save Peter if there's no planet for Peter to live on,'_ he told him logically. The Hulk didn't care. He bellowed and pummeled his fists.

Just as Bruce's stomach adjusted to the sensation, his feet were on solid ground again. His legs folded beneath him. He landed on the soft ground hard. Ow. Tailbone.

There was grass under his palms. Bruce stared up at the patch of blue sky and the clouds through firs.

Upstate New York.

Thor offered him a hand. Bruce accepted it, and slowly climbed to his feet. The world spun.

"We must speak quickly, my friend. It may already be too late to save your world."

Too _late_?

"Thor." Bruce takes a careful, shaky breath. "What the _hell_ was that?"

Thor looked at him woefully. Pity? Pity was a strange emotion in the face of the Asgardian. Bruce didn't like it there, and Bruce especially didn't like it focused at him.

"It is Kvilla."

"I can put two and two together. I understand that. But what _is_ that?"

"It is a disease."

Bruce grit his teeth. Don't turn green, don't turn green.

"That does what?"

"It is conscious. Upon infection, it possesses the minds of its victims, and turns them into wraiths."

Bruce shut his mouths.

Wraiths? _Wraiths?_ What was his life now, some horrific fantasy story?

Thor continued.

"The disease is intelligent and malevolent. It desires the destruction of all life-forms, even the one it possesses. In Asgard, there is a cure for the disease, but if an Asgardian does not receive the cure, then catches the disease, he must remain in quarantine for as long as three hundred years, before it subsides. One person with the disease escaped the quarantine residence, and-"

"Let me guess." Bruce pinched his nose, because _no no no_ how much worse could this day get?

"He escaped to Earth."

"She escaped to Midgard," Thor corrected. "She is a skillful magician and shapeshifter, much like my brother Loki."

The Hulk growled menacingly at the mention of Thor's raven-haired kinsman. Bruce was too distracted to pay much attention. Shapeshifter. Heh. Funny coincidence. Guess which type of villain had decided to target Peter most recently?

"The shapeshifter is Slick."

It was a statement, not a question.

Thor shook his big head up and down.

"I believe so."

"But Slick made her first appearance weeks ago," Bruce pointed out. "How long has this been going on?"

Thor's gaze darkened.

"Skrepp, as we call her on Asgard, has been missing from the quarantine quarters for more than six months. The quarantine facility, fearing punishment, did not alert Asgard of her escape. We discovered her disappearance only most recently, at which time I hastened to Midgard, to alert you of the disaster."

"You mean to tell me," and if Bruce was turning green around the shirt collar, he didn't care, "this Kvilla, a disease it takes Asgardians 300 years to recover from, has been on our planet for as long as _six months_?"

Thor's silence was answer enough. Bruce pushed his glasses higher up his nose. He wrung his hands together.

"Look, I don't know if you gods sitting high above us mortals understand this, but humans don't live for 300 years. We can't just, just… lock everyone up and ignore them for the next three centuries."

Thor's gaze lowered to the ground. Bruce breathed in deep and counted to ten in his head.

"How quickly does Kvilla spread?"

"Slowly at first, but as it infects more beings, it speeds up."

Six months. Six months of humans being carriers of some alien disease that makes the victim plot the destruction of everything in existence. How many were infected? How many people around Bruce were carrying it?

Tony, Natasha, the rest of the Avengers. Was that what was going on? He remembered Tony's uncharacteristic coldness, all of their alien desire to relentlessly pursue Peter. Maybe that alien desire was more alien than Bruce had thought.

What about Peter? Was Peter infected?

Bruce shuddered at the thought. The kid had already been through too much.

"How do we know who's infected?"

Thor's mood was so heavy he was almost digging a crater in the ground with the very weight of him.

"We cannot. Not among those we don't know. The only sign is uncharacteristic behavior."

And just like that, the doctor diagnosed, the judge delivered his verdict. All the rest of the Avengers stood condemned, because 'uncharacteristic behavior' was a frighteningly accurate summary of the past several months. They were criminals destined for punishment and they were patients destined for death. 'Wraiths', Thor had said. Bruce wondered if Thor's definition of wraith matched his. The unfortunate victim was leached of his mind, his soul, his identity, and made the idiot slave of a master with malevolent purpose. A permanent and irreversible condition.

Was that the fate of the World's Mightiest Heroes? Possessed and consumed by an infinitely tiny virus, along with the rest of the human race? There was a danger in globalization, and that danger was how far disease could spread. Who couldn't this disease touch?

Him. Lucky him, bonded and bound to a monster, turned into the man who couldn't put a bullet through his brain without releasing the physical embodiment of rage.

Bruce tried to swallow and found it difficult.

"Uncharacteristic behavior… such as the rest of the Avengers seeking to capture Spider-Man, a known hero?"

"Such as that," Thor agreed. "I fear the rest of the Avengers may have been infected as long as the beginning of this disaster with your world's masked helper."

Bruce's legs moved without his permission. He paced back and forth across the green grass. The sunny weather felt really, really wrong. The sky had no sympathy, and the sun continued to smile gently down on the strange pair.

"But why am I not infected? And why would Kvilla have the Avengers go after Pe- er, Spider-Man?" Bruce hoped Thor would put the small fumble up to nerves.

Thor shook his head.

"I cannot claim to understand, All I know is that we are the only two standing between Kvilla and the termination of the existence of all living things. It will not stop with Midgard. I believe Kvilla will use the combined effort of all resources on Midgard to approach other species besides yours, and destroy them."

Bruce rubbed his temples.

"Won't Asgard help?"

"Once the action goes through the council, with the removal of Skrepp, yes, but not with the eradication of the disease unless an infected Midgardian attempted to leave the planet."

Was everything hopeless? Bruce was sure it couldn't get much worse.

Peter. Had Bruce been talking to Peter the entire time, or some extreme alien version of the flu? He'd grown so attached to the kid in the past few weeks that the Hulk liked him, and the Hulk didn't like anybody, his host included.

But why were the Avengers after him? Why not, if for some reason Kvilla needed Peter's identity on file in SHIELD's database, just have him submit that first night, all those months ago? It didn't add up.

"Why would Kvilla need the Avengers to discover Spider-Man's identities? Why wouldn't they know? Why not just kill him?"

He stopped short in front of Thor.

"This." He flung a hand about wildly in the air. "All of this: the past six months, all of the Avengers actions, since Fury called us in, has been centered around Spider-Man. But why Spider-Man? Why use arguably the most powerful people on the planet to go after a small New York vigilante?"

"Because he has something the Kvilla needs to best destroy everything that exists."

It wasn't Thor who spoke.

Bruce whirled around, before realizing the voice was familiar and coming from his back pocket. SUSANNA.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Thor, but Kvilla is intelligent. So intelligent, in fact, it most cleverly spends its limited resources, plants the seeds where they'll grow best and baddest, and has the patience to wait for them to flourish."

"Who speaks?"

Thor wielded Mjolnir in a dangerous fist, and he scanned the mostly open clearing with a dangerous look in his eye.

"It's fine, Thor," Bruce reassured. "It's just an AI, like JARVIS." He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, and showed it to Thor. The service bars were weak, but evidently strong enough for SUSANNA to listen in.

But was it fine? If Peter was infected, what was to stop Peter from programming sweet, intelligent SUSANNA as a powerful spy for him and kvilla?

"SUSANNA, how can I know I can trust you?"

"Hear me out, Bruce, Thor. Thor, answer my question, and then I'll explain my logic. If I'm right, Peter's in grave danger."

"SUSANNA," Bruce warned. The last thing Peter needed right now was the added stress of his identity revealed to Thor. The AI was sometimes overconfident in her belief that she knew what was best for Peter.

Thor, oblivious, hesitantly answered SUSANNA's question.

"You are correct in saying kvilla is patient and intelligent. They scheme and plan for years sometimes, before doing anything that may attract attention. Once, they expanded and infected Asgard for over a hundred years, before any of us suspected a thing."

"But what does Spider-Man have that makes him special?" Bruce asked. "I mean, he is," he clarified. Now wasn't the time for SUSANNA's over-defensiveness regarding Peter. "But what makes him so out of the ordinary that the kvilla would use the Avengers as a weapon against him? Something still isn't adding up."

"Thor, can kvilla infect an animal?" SUSANNA asked.

Thor thought for a moment.

"It never has been recorded doing so, despite the many times in history I can think it advantageous."

"Spider-Man's DNA is different than a regular human's. Why wouldn't the kvilla, or any other illness for that matter, be able to control Bruce?"

"Because my body is different." The tiniest sprout of hope budded, and even his extreme pessimism couldn't stamp it out. Peter could be safe. "The Hulk changes my DNA. The virus can't infect me, because I'm too different, my entire system is too different." His eyes widened. "But it tried to! That's why I was so sick yesterday. I've never been sick as the Hulk before, yet yesterday I was. My body must of had to dispose of the kvilla before I got sick and died. And it almost succeeded, because the Hulk wasn't doing enough about it, but Slick made a mistake, when in the dream she brought up-"

She brought up Peter.

Loki could control minds, surely enter dreams. Why couldn't Slick too? Why couldn't Slick enter Bruce's dreams, his mind, make him hopeless, make him give up?

Make Peter hopeless. Make Peter give up. But she, it, them, had miscalculated. Slick had made the Hulk _angry._

"My antibodies adjusted," Bruce finished weakly.

"So you speculate that the Spider-Man is untouchable to kvilla?" Thor asked. "How are we to prove this theory true? It takes one who knows the man well to determine whether or not his behavior is uncharacteristic."

Bruce glanced at the phone.

He couldn't make that discernment. He'd known Peter for weeks, and had truly grown to know him mere days ago.

Something in Bruce said otherwise.

He was a scientist. He was a man of reason, of logic, of scientific evidence. This knowledge, this trust in Peter, was illogical, possibly improbable, based on nothing but circumstantial evidence.

But he knew it. Peter wasn't infected.

"SUSANNA." Bruce was halting. "Can I tell him?"

"Yes. I-" She faltered and Bruce looked at the phone curiously, because she was an AI. She shouldn't have faltered. "I think it's the only choice we have, no matter how much it will hurt him."

He hoped Peter didn't hate him after this.

"I know Spider-Man's identity."

Thor looked at him directly.

"How?"

"I know him, and I discovered his secret by accident. He's… become a good friend."

Thor's frown deepened.

"It was my understanding that you do not leave the Tower. How then could you have become acquainted with the Spider-Man?"

"The Young Minds class I've been supervising."

"The youth you mean? What place would Spider-Man have among them?"

Bruce suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of sorrow. The team had no idea. And even if Tony, or Natasha and Clint, or Steve suspected, they were in no mental state to do anything about it.

The stress that had been on Bruce as a teenager had been tremendous. His seventeenth birthday, all he had wished was it was his eighteenth. He wanted to be of legal age to leave his dad.

Abuse was no way to let a kid be a kid. But neither was all of the stress and pressure that was on Peter.

Peter never got to do normal teenager things. He never would be able to, either. There was no way to just forget all the awful things and be like other people his age. He'd entered the war, and even if he lost the ability to be Spider-Man, got his uncle and parents back, and had a perfectly normal life, the war had entered him. There was no returning to childhood once you left it.

"He is one, Thor." The words were heavy on his tongue, and he was glad when they'd come off.

Thor did not seem to comprehend. His brow creased.

"You mean he is a youth of your kind?"

"He's seventeen years old."

Thor was growing closer to the dreadful truth. The realization slowly bloomed. Fully flowered, it was ugly. Bruce found satisfaction in the anger and disgust in the prince's face.

"He is not of age?"

"No."

Thor shifted mjolnir from one hand to the other.

"He holds himself as a man. He acts like a warrior. It is detestable and a crime worthy of most severe punishment to pursue an innocent youth in such a sleazy, undignified manner. Even if he were pursued in an honorable manner it would deserve death as punishment on Asgard."

Bruce wasn't sure what to say to that.

"Guys." SUSANNA piped up. "There's no more time. Slick and her army are starting to destroy things. As much as I agree with Thor's point, you need a plan."

"Your SUSANNA is right," Thor rumbled. "We need to plan. I shall go down to the city, and do what I can to keep Midgardians out of harm's way. I warn you ahead of time, Banner, they will not be compliant. The kvilla may make them purposefully attempt to hurt or kill themselves to frustrate us or distract us. The Hulk, in this situation, would be incredibly unwise."

Bruce shuddered. The Hulk didn't want to go down to the Tower anyways. He wanted to go find Peter.

' _AND SMASH THEM.'_ The Hulk thundered.

"You're right. I should go after Peter. He's all alone, and I need to warn him before Slick gets to him. Can you drop me off in Hell's Kitchen, then go to the Tower?"

"Yes."

"You're out of time," SUSANNA warned. "They're attacking people. I've sent out three of the five Iron Man suits Tony has on hand here, and I'm pulling more from his house in Malibu to help fight." She paused. "You need to go _now._ It's bad, Bruce."

Bruce and Thor moved without another word. Thor's bicep wrapped around him and he started to whip the hammer around. Everything blurred around them, Bruce's stomach dropped, and the green grass was replaced with gray concrete.

"Best of luck finding your young friend," Thor wished solemnly. Then he was off.

Bruce turned around, and looked down the long, eerily empty street. The Hulk grumbled impatiently.

"Where to, SUSANNA?" Bruce asked.

* * *

Spider-Man could hear the solid _thwak thwak_ of fists hitting a punching bag before he even entered the gym. With clumsy, uncertain hands, he slid the key into the lock on the gray, nondescript alleyway entrance, and turned the handle.

His spider-sense stopped him.

It hit him like a tsunami. His breath hitched, his heart skipped a beat, and it took all of Spider-Man's self control to not bolt in the opposite direction of the door of the gym. The spider inside of him pleaded to not have to go behind that door. It went against its very nature to even consider it.

But he was not just spider.

He was human too, and with that came responsibility. His aunt was in the hospital, in a coma, and who was the reason she was there?

Him.

Spider-Man pushed the door open.

The early morning light illuminated the black gym. Bags and mats and the ring were cast in a gray light. The _thwak thwak_ of fists didn't pause their relentless rhythm.

He took a step forward.

"Hello?"

It echoed through the big empty room fruitlessly. The fists hitting the punching bag didn't stop.

It felt wrong to leave the door open. If felt dangerous to close it. Spider-Man compromised by pulling it mostly shut, so that just a little bit of light seeped in through the crack.

He walked deeper into the gym, around the boxing ring, to the back.

 _Thwak thwak thwak thwak._

"Hello?" He said again.

Spider-Man could just barely make out the shadowy form clothed in black from head to toe.

He let out a relieved breath.

Daredevil.

The strong urge to run didn't go away.

 _Thwak thwak thwak. Thwak thwak._

He approached the older vigilante.

"Hey man, sorry to bother you. Can you tell me-"

Daredevil stopped punching the bag. It swung around wildly, the strong chain holding it up creaking. He turned around so quickly, Peter instinctually took a step back.

"Peter," Daredevil acknowledged.

"Hey." He suddenly felt very strange, coming to the vigilante like he had, meeting him at a place that was obviously important to the man behind the mask. It was crossing boundaries. "I've… I've got a bit of a problem."

"What's up?"

Was Peter imagining things, or did he detect concern in his voice? Something inside of him wanted to immediately deny it, but it did almost make sense. Daredevil, since he had met Peter, had been nothing but kind, in his gruff, no nonsense way. He seemed like a genuinely good guy. Why not be concerned?

The slightest bit of his mind-numbing solitude receded.

"I've got-" His voice cracked, and he forced himself to take a breath.

Not now Peter. Spider-Man.

"I have a question."

The vigilante was looking increasingly disturbed.

"Sure. What's the matter?"

"I-" he fished for the key in his pocket. "I found a key. I need to know who this belongs to. Do you know who else would have a key to this place?"

Spider-Man passed it into Daredevil's wrapped hand. The man became silent. Unnaturally still.

"It's mine."

Spider-Man blinked.

It was his.

The implications of what that meant hit him hard. Peter recoiled.

No. There was no way. Surely not-

But it was possible, wasn't it?

"Did you hurt her?" His voice was ice.

Daredevil hesitated.

Peter's hand formed a fist.

"Look kid, it was nothing personal," the older vigilante began. "You're very black and white when it comes to the moral side of things, and I respect that. But in the grown up world, it isn't that simple. I've got my own hide, and my own identity to look out for, and I needed the money."

"You're a mercenary."

Daredevil didn't deny it.

"Sure, you could put it that way. I mean, mercenary is a bit of a stretch, but I definitely don't mind roughing someone up for the greater good."

Something inside Peter shriveled up and died. It hurt. It hurt so bad, he wasn't sure how to handle it. He'd grown to genuinely like Daredevil, maybe even trust him, and this was the price he had paid.

"She," Peter hissed, "Was a sixty-two year old woman with a heart condition."

"It was a message from the Avengers," Daredevil said shortly. "You go to them and let them perform a few tests, get to know you a bit, and Tony Stark will pull some strings, and your Aunt will get access to the most advanced medical technology available. She'll be healed in hours."

Peter was stunned into silence. Daredevil knew he was. The Avengers knew who he was.

He had failed. Despite SUSANNA, despite it all, he had failed. His aunt had paid the price.

"It's not about your identity, Peter." Daredevil's voice was scornful. "It was never about your identity. They knew who you were. They're the Avengers. You're a little boy playing dress up. But they need to know about _you_. How you were made, what happened to make you enhanced. They tried to invite you nicely. You didn't listen. I'm sorry it had to come to this, Peter. I'm truly, truly sorry."

 _._

Peter launched the two webs at supports above Daredevil's head, and lethally swung forward, aimed straight at his chest.

Daredevil threw up an arm just in time. There was a crack. Daredevil hissed and clenched his teeth. Peter swung at his head. He ducked.

The next hit, Daredevil was more prepared for. He retaliated with a series of blows, to the head, his stomach, tried to swipe his feet out from under him. Peter blocked each move with deadly precision.

Time blurred.

He was a flurry of sweat and grit and blood and rage. Reckless and ruthless. He found his self control deteriorating rapidly. Each punch, each hit, grew heavier, more powerful, until Daredevil staggered under each blow.

 _Aunt May's pale face unconscious, on a hospital bed. Her blood on the living room carpet._

The next punch missed Daredevil. It went straight through the wall. Peter wasn't sure when he'd cornered Daredevil, but he didn't waste it. He wrapped a hand around Daredevil's throat, and slammed the man against the wall.

Red. The eye-catching red of his suit, the glistening red of blood on his hands, the red streaming down from Daredevil's nose, over his gritted teeth, and drip drip dripping down his chin. The red that tinged his vision, the fiery, hot _anger_ that had been building within him.

That's all he felt, in that moment. Not sorrow, or concern, or betrayal. He just felt red. Destructive, impulsive. Murderous.

Murder.

Sure, he'd been angry before. Beyond furious, especially when Uncle Ben has been killed. But this was something different. This anger…

His grip around Daredevil's throat tightened. He made a choking sound. Peter could imagine how _easy_ it would be to just snap his throat. Give him what he was due.

Tighter, tighter. Daredevil's jaw went slack. His tongue lolled.

Peter didn't feel red. He _was_ red. Pure, hot, furious anger and he _would_ kill him, right there, right then.

Warm hands wrapped around his chest, his arms, and yanked back. The faint scent of coffee and fabric softener engulfed him. Peter's hands lost their grip, purely out of surprise. Daredevil fell to the ground with a _thump._

His spider sense hadn't alerted him.

Peter tore his body out of the man's grasp and whirled around to attack. The man violently flinched away. Peter froze.

Bruce.


End file.
